Coup de Grâce
by Akatsuki Feathers
Summary: Pip has never been more than a person in the background. But with the sudden arrival of Satan and Damien, Pip is thrown onto center stage. Will he be able to deal? And what is this plan Satan is talking about? *Damien/Pip*
1. Run Pip, Run

Part I: **Running**  
Chapter I: Run Pip, Run  


* * *

The clock ticked at the painfully slow speed as it almost always did towards the end of the day. The smallest hand of it moved sluggishly and as a result, the other hands moved even slower.

He sat on the edge of his seat, glancing from both the teacher to clock, and could feel the sweat gather on the back of his neck.

His bag was packed; packed long before his neurotic clock watching occurred. All that was needed now was the bell and a clear path to the door.

The sweat on his neck froze suddenly as a breeze went over it.

The blonde turned his head slightly and glanced at the obese boy sitting behind him.

The fatter one sneered at him and mouthed a threat that seemed to resemble, "I'm going to get you,"

He quickly turned back around and glanced at the clock sharply. He bit his tongue as the minute hand clicked into its place. Before his mind could explain, his thoughts went into a wild tangent of worry over the missing bell.

The boy behind him just scared the living daylights out of him; he was too anxious to even understand that the bell didn't ring right on the spot.

But finally it did and he bolted out of his seat and out the door before the other boy could get to him.

Pip ran as fast as his legs would allow. This would have been quite a feat in itself if it weren't for the fact that he was running for his very life.

Well, not really. But it was the thought that counted.

That wasn't really true either…

But either way, he ran and ran at almost track star speeds, all in the efforts to get away from the three thugs running after him.

As he ran down the main route of South Park, three of Eric Cartman's closest goons chased after him in an attempt to catch him and "torture" him.

Eric long figured out that he was not suited for running.

In fact, Pip was statistically better off (eighty percent) at getting away when Cartman was in the chasing party. But, with him out of it, Pip's statistics lowered exponentially. Down all the way to just a mere eighteen percent.

Those three boys were rather fast for their muscular body types.

As he hurried down the street, too preoccupied by the thoughts of his day's beating by the boys, he didn't seem to notice the trashcan that was placed right on the sidewalk ready for the garbage truck.

He crashed with a bang and clanking of other cans and collapsed onto the ground. His breath was quick and his throat seared with both dryness and heat. He could feel his muscles ache from the overexertion.

"Hurry! Get him before he gets up!" One of the boys bellowed to his buddies as they rushed him.

The two other boys yanked Pip off the ground by his arms and dragged him off to Cartman's house.

* * *

Eric's mother greeted them with a strangely happy tone and told them that Eric was within his room.

Pip was dragged up the stairs and into the Neo-Nazi's room. He was pushed onto the floor and at Cartman's feet.

The room was dark with an exception for the single overhead light fixture that swung back and forth idly. It seemed that Cartman was trying to copy a stereotypical interrogation room.

It certainly intimidated Pip.

"Welcome Pip," Eric greeted, standing above him with a great air of intimidation.

"Hello," he greeted back faintly.

The other boys pulled him to his feet and the fat one stepped forward. With amusement plastered all over his face, Eric ordered the third by to lift up the blonde's shirt.

He did.

He gripped the boy's nipple and gave it a good ninety degree twist.

The third member of Eric's group dropped Pip's shirt (for it was no longer needed up, for Cartman's grip was steel solid) and walked around to his back. He gripped the elastic of his under pants and hefted them up with such force that Pip's eyes watered.

He gave a loud cry out, mouth quickly covered by a hand from one of guys holding onto his arms. He struggled even more as he muffled into the hand, "Please stop!"

Cartman spat in his face, "You know you like it, Frenchie!"

"I'm not French!" He screamed sourly into the boy's hand and struggled further.

"Sure you ain't," the boy who was giving him a wedgie snapped with amusement. He pulled up further with a sudden jolt.

Cartman switched to the other nipple.

Pip's day was becoming even worse.

* * *

The next day, Pip did his usual job of running away from Cartman's crew.

He always wondered why Cartman was the only one out of the old group (Kyle, Stan, and Kenny) who still felt the need to bother him and pick on him.

Wait…

What was he thinking?

Cartman was an arse! Of course he wouldn't have stopped making fun of him!

So, Pip ran, and hoped with all his might that today would be his lucky day.

He ran down the main street of South Park and headed towards his apartment. Once he was there, he'd be safe.

He was so close, so close when someone stepped out from between the alley. He ran into the person and feel backwards onto the concrete.

This was just not his week…

The British boy shot back onto his feet and apologized to the person with his eyes pointed to the ground. He started off running again before his bullies could catch him again.

Maybe today was his lucky day…

As Pip hurried up the steps of his apartment complex; he could feel his heart soar.

He had made it!

And, with an air of confidence, he pulled out his keys before his pocket and unlocked the door. He swaggered in happily—

Only to see a very flamboyant Satan and his supposed ex-boyfriend Saddam sitting at his kitchen counter drinking tea from his good china.

He closed the door, every good feeling within his body sinking almost suddenly, and quietly stepped into the kitchen.

"Hello Philip!" Satan greeted with a bright smile.

He gapped, ears pounding.

His front door swung open and Damien stepped in.

"Long time no see!" He greeted with a smile that equaled his father's.

The Brit's breath caught in his chest and his heart rate doubled. He glanced from Satan and Damien to Saddam, his eyes wide and sweat poured out of him. He tapped his teeth together and continued his worried glancing.

Saddam took a long sip from his cup before he placed the cup dangerously close to the edge of his counter.

Pip pulled forward and grabbed the cup before it could slip off the counter.

"Please be careful with my china." He requested.

"Yeah Saddam!" Satan added.

Damien rolled his eyes and finished his cigarette before he tossed it into Saddam's cup.

The Iraqi/Canadian sent the Anti-Christ a death glare.

Pip stared at the group from hell with a silent demeanor. Questions gnawed at his stomach lining. "Excuse me, but, why are you in my home?" He asked.

"Oh, right," Damien muttered and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a hat.

Pip noticed it right away.

"My hat!" He gasped with surprise and patted the top of his head to make sure. He was missing it, for sure. The fact that he hadn't noticed this seemed to numb the other strange occurrences that were happening.

The darker-haired boy handed it to him and slid his hands back into his pockets.

"Thank you!" Pip said with a bright smile. He placed his cap back on and felt whole once more.

He smiled still, looking up at Damien… Who seemed to be taller than him for some reason… His smile faded.

"I don't mean to be rude," Pip imposed again, "but why are you in my home?"

"So sorry Philip," –How did Satan know his name? – "We just stopped by because Damien-kins said he wanted to visit an old friend!"

Pip's heart was smashed into a million little pieces and reassembled soon after. He looked at the Devil's son and felt his lips quiver.

"Friend?"

"Ah, dude, don't get all gay on me." Damien groaned.

"Oh- Oh yes!" Pip recovered quickly, "Right-o!"

"Yeah," he said, attention forwarded to the young Brit, "Sorry 'bout blowing you up… And stuff."

The two stood awkwardly for a quick moment.

Satan cleared his throat, "Excuse us," he said politely and pulled Saddam by the hand and out of the room quickly.

Pip fiddled with his tie, "Thank you," he said.

Damien gave him a questioning look.

"For saying that you're my friend." The words were chocked out as Pip's happiness overwhelmed him.

"Don't go creaming yourself over me, Pip," Damien said roughly. He patted him on the shoulder.

Pip laughed weakly.

Today was a good day.


	2. What a Gaylord!

Arc I:** Running**  
Chapter II: What a Gaylord!  


* * *

On his weekends, Pip worked. That's why he always did homework on Friday's. But, with Damien and his family's sudden visit after eight or so years, Pip had neglected to do his work after school. So now his schedule was very chaotic.

He generally woke up at seven and readied himself for work until eight fifteen.

Once he was ready, he spent thirty minutes walking to Middle Park and to the smallest mall that Middle Park had. He worked at a Beauty Salon.

It was humiliating, but that was the only place that would hire him for just weekends and for his lack-luster credentials.

The girls there seemed to like him. But that may have just been his mind working tricks upon him. If they did however like him, he was sure it was because of two reasons. Many of them thought he was gay, and he couldn't honestly blame them for thinking so, considering where he worked and all. But, there were these select few who actually believed that he was a girl as well.

During these days, he was very tempted to cut his hair short, just to stop the confusion. Or maybe grow a mustache, even though he would admit that getting one would look rather odd.

But he was always very fond of longer hair.

"Hi Pip!" Sally greeted from behind the front counter.

He walked down the row of hairdryers, feeling perturbed at her greeting. He smiled weakly, "Hello," he replied slowly. The Brit pinned on his nametag and looked at her.

"How are you today?" He asked her shyly.

"Okay, I guess," she replied and fiddled with her nametag.

"What's wrong?" He inquired.

Sally fiddled with her tag, looking at it and then to him. "I think I'm in love."

"What's wrong with that?" He asked, awkwardly but also truly confused.

Sally and her boyfriend, Jeremy, had been seeing each other for an amazing three years.

Pip naturally assumed that she was in love with him.

"It's not with him," she said quietly.

Pip's eyes centered on her again, "What?"

Sally held her head in her hands, "I know. But every time I see him, I totally forget about Jeremy."

"I'm so sorry, Sally," Pip told her and hesitantly patted her on the shoulder.

"Yeah—" She trailed off as the bell attached to the front door tinkled with an entry. She smiled heavily, seeming to sag with happiness, and exhaled dreamily.

Pip stood and blinked with surprise at the man's entrance. He looked at Sally, who looked like she had died and gone to Heaven, and back to the man.

"Hi Pip," the Devil's son greeted; fire was in his eyes.

"Watcha, Damien," he greeted back and looked over at the girl with worry.

"Hi," Sally greeted with masked excitement.

"Hello," Damien replied.

Sally was dazzled.

"What are you doing here?" Pip asked him.

"I could ask you the same."

Pip blushed with embarrassment. "I work here."

Damien laughed at this, "How am I not surprised?"

Philip chuckled weakly.

"Who's your friend?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! Damien, this is Sally." He introduced. He turned to his dazed coworker, "Sally, this is Damien."

"Hi," she greeted once again.

Damien laughed to himself. He settled and glanced over his shoulder.

Pip couldn't tell what he was looking at.

"Well, I need to go," he rolled his eyes, "Dad needs me."

"Oh, cheerio then!" Pip said with a short wave.

"Yeah," he exited the shop with a ring of the bell.

Sally finally snapped out of her trance and muttered mostly to herself, "I think I'm in love."

"Oh,"

* * *

He quickly scrambled home and felt is palms drip with sweat. It was dark out, maybe nine at night and he was very off schedule.

Philip unlocked his door and found his home dark and quiet.

Good signs.

He flipped on the light switch, grabbed his backpack, and placed it on the dining room table. He quickly sat down and pulled out his homework.

But, there was so much to do!

He would become so far behind if he didn't finish his work that night.

That was exactly why he sacrificed his dinner in order to stay on track.

And, as he finished his calculus work, he wondered why he was so behind. That was when he remembered Damien's visit, which brought upon even more questions.

Why was the Anti-Christ back? Why was Satan with him? Was this another 'take-over-the-world' scheme?

Why did Damien consider him a friend?

Pip tapped his pencil against his math paper.

It wasn't as if he wasn't grateful or anything. In fact, he was arse over elbow with happiness. He was just confused…

The only people who were relatively close to being his friends were the girls down at work. But they didn't really act much like friends. Actually, most of them just used him. Sally was the one who did it the most, in fact, and her sudden attitude change really caught him off guard.

He wanted friends so badly though.

Friends who weren't like Eric Cartman.

* * *

He ran. He ran with all his might.

Damien jogged next with such grace that Pip felt ashamed of his own frantic running.

"You should really stand up for yourself," the Anti-Christ mentioned coolly.

Pip huffed heavily, "I've—been—trying."

"Apparently you're not trying hard enough."

Pip toppled over his own feet and landed on his hands and knees.

The goons came closer to him with sneers and darkened hearts.

Damien jogged back to Pip and made it right when the three dragged Pip off the ground and started to pull him towards Eric's house. He grabbed the blonde's arm and wrenched him out of his bullies' grips.

Pip landed against his savior and looked at the party with worry.

"Look, it's fag and fagier!" The blonde one shouted.

Damien growled deeply.

He was soon set on fire.

The two others repelled back in shock.

"Dude!" The black-haired one cried.

The other ran off before anything befell him. The final boy finally running off after him.

The one aflame panicked more and ran frantically.

Damien motioned for Pip to move along, which he did happily.

On their walk to his home, Pip felt himself swell with not only worry but also a little happiness.

"Thank you so much for saving me," he said with a tiny smile.

Damien scoffed, "I just did what you should do,"

"You mean set them on fire?" This was said in an utterly innocent matter.

"No, Pip," he said, "I mean stand up for yourself."

"Oh, yes, dearly sorry for the misunderstanding."

"Pft, whatever."


	3. Bad Foreshadowing and Filler

Part I: **Running**  
Chapter III: Bad Foreshadowing and Filler  


* * *

"That boy is rather cute, Damien." Satan mentioned an evening some weeks later.

He coughed and chocked down his cigarette, "What?" He shouted.

Saddam was sulking next to Satan. The collar around his neck flashed several colors; red, yellow, green, red, yellow, green.

"That boy, Philip, he's such a cutie. Those long blonde locks are so sweet." Satan said gleefully as he ate his cake.

"What are you getting to?" Damien asked as he glared at his father.

"Oh, I thought you had a crush on him. Sorry Damien-kins."

He sputtered, growing red-faced, and intensified his glare at the rebel angel.

The Devil grinned but turned his attention to Saddam.

They flirted a little.

Damien rolled his eyes and looked away from the two, slowly nibbling down his own dessert.

Saddam placed his hand on Satan's leg and gave a cautious look. When he found no retaliation to this, he rubbed it and whispered things that Damien didn't really want to hear.

"That's it. If you two are going to do that, then I'm going to my room," Damien said with a hardened look. He stood up, his cake at hand, and went to his room.

"Aboot time that guy left," he could hear Saddam say.

He exhaled roughly from his nose and settled down in his bed. He picked at the remainder of his cake before he grunted and set the plate down on the floor. He lounged back and closed his eyes.

All he wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

Pip sipped his Earl Grey quietly and felt his eyes drop close. He opened them and yawned roughly.

Once he finished his drink, he placed the dirty cup in the sink for later cleaning, and gathered his things for school.

He quietly walked to the bus stop and stared quietly at Craig's group.

They were just as rude to him as Cartman's group was.

He stood off to the side (a little too far) and waited.

The group talked to each other, not even noticing him, until the bus arrived.

Pip yawned quietly and entered the bus.

A punch in the eye woke him up fully.

* * *

"Dude, what happened to you?" Damien asked the little Brit with surprise.

Pip's left eye was swollen and darkly bruised. He smiled despite the shiner and replied, "I was punched. But I'm quite alright."

"Who did it?" The Anti-Christ became aggressive.

"It's okay Damien! I am sure I deserved it!"

"Pip!" He gripped him by the shoulders, "Don't say that with a smile on your face! Never say that!"

"It's the truth, though,"

"Don't say that!" He repeated, growing shocked and angry at the same time, "No one should have hit you for no reason!"

"But Damien—"

"Don't say it Pip."

"But—"

"Don't!"

"But Damien—!"

"I don't want to hear it!" He let go of his shoulders and shook his head.

The bell hammered.

The two gathered themselves and walked to class.

The one out of two classes that they shared was Advanced Placement United States History.

They took their seats next to each other for the sake of friendship, despite the fact that during class they were too busy taking notes to speak to each other.

AP US History was the class that involved the most notes.

They sat in the back.

"Damien, why did you decide to come back to South Park?"

He shrugged lightly as he pulled out a pen and a notebook from his bag. "I dunno'. Little towns are a lot easier to wreck havoc in. Less news press."

Pip stared at him with large eyes.

He laughed, "I'm only joking."

"I can't tell anymore." The Brit replied in sad truth.

He laughed again, "I'm not surprised!"

Pip joined him and left the topic at that.

* * *

One day, several weeks after Damien's sudden visit to his home, Pip felt a lingering dread build in the back of his heart.

So, he dug an old camera out of his late parents' things (he couldn't part without them) and decided make some memories.

He clicked the button and waited for the slow camera to react.

"Pip, what are you—? Hey!"

The picture was taken when the subject moved.

It came out blurry.

"Pip, what are you doing?" Damien asked as he made a grab at the camera.

The Pirrip pulled away, "Please keep still, I need to take some pictures of you!"

"I don't want you to!"

Pip stopped his back trek and lowered the camera, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you bent on getting a picture of me?" The son of Satan asked as he leaned against the apartment building.

"I have the feeling that you're leaving soon."

Damien blinked with surprise.

"To be honest, I don't want to lose my best mate." He replied shyly.

Damien snorted, "Mate?"

Pip sputtered and blushed brightly, "Oh my! Curse my slang. I didn't mean it like that! I swear!"

He shook his head with a chuckle and punched him in the shoulder.

Pip recoiled despite the playfulness, but Damien went along with it anyway.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to leave soon. Maybe in a week or two or something. But I will have to leave some time or another."

He looked even more crestfallen.

"But seriously, don't take pictures of me. I shouldn't be noticed as it is, let alone recorded."

Pip gave him an odd look.

"Yes, pictures do account for records." He explained.

"Right-o, that makes sense. I'm so sorry Damien."

"Pip,"

"Yes?"

"Stop saying sorry,"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Damien chuckled to himself lightly. Now if only the British boy would stop being so damn adorable.


	4. Crying Is Really Unmanly, So Is Pip

Part I: **Running**  
Chapter IV: Crying Is Really Unmanly, So Is Pip  


* * *

The next day, Damien wasn't in school. Or the next day.

And once Pip really started to worry, a week had passed by.

Pip found himself feel different then he had in the weeks past. Until now, he had never really noticed how lonely he really was. It was painful.

Another week passed.

Pip felt the loss of his only true friend sink deeper into his subconscious. He had kept his optimistic views in and out, but he felt himself draw even further into the background as the other boys (Eric, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny) all went off and got into trouble and such. As well, dare he say it; he no longer felt the need for popular friends.

He became even more frightened.

* * *

"Pip, are you okay?" Sally asked him with concern.

He slowly massaged shampoo into the customer's hair, not necessarily paying attention to anything. He looked at her slowly and shook his head.

"No, I'm not feeling well."

"Oh, do you want the rest of the day off?"

He rinsed the woman's hair and wrung it in a towel. He walked her over to the chair, "Oh dear no!" He replied to her as he walked after the client.

"What's wrong?" She asked him as she followed him.

He ignored both her sudden sense of friendship and the fact that she could not give him days off even though they were the same "rank". "I'm just a little upset is all."

"C'mon, tell me! Please?" She begged.

"I miss Damien." He replied with a steady voice. There was a crack hidden under his mask.

"You like him, don't you?"

"Well yes, of course. We are friends after all."

"No, no, I mean like-like him! It all makes sense now!" She exclaimed before he could argue, "Of course you're gay! Why else would you work here?"

"I'm not gay!" He exclaimed as he ruffled the client's freshly combed hair.

"Don't worry about it! I have two dads you know! It's not like I'm homophobic!"

Pip squirmed and leveled the woman's hair. "I'm not gay, Sally."

"You sure do act like it, young man." The woman commented.

The British boy frowned and continued to trim her hair. The two women were just so stubborn; he was beat.

* * *

He stood in the bathroom with a pair of scissors in his hand.

It was raining out and, as clichéd as it seemed, he was glad that the weather reflected his mood. In his mind, a sunny day would just make him feel even worse.

Pip frowned at the mirror and held up the scissors. He pulled over his hair and set the blades into place, ready to snip away his long hair.

He trembled and lowered the scissors. There was another tremble and he noticed that he wasn't the source.

The English teen stepped out of his bathroom and watched with shock as his bedroom floor ripped open and hell fire spilled out and onto his carpet. Black demons made of smoke and ash screamed and clawed at the surface, unable to crawl out and be free.

"Don't you dare do that, Pip!"

Pip's heart leapt into his throat.

Damien crawled out of the fissure and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"Don't be stupid, I know what you were doing; as well as what you were going to do afterwards."

"I was simply going to cut my hair!" His voice quivered and tears built in his eyes.

"Exactly! Don't do that!"

"Why?"

Damien huffed, "'Cause that's what makes you who you are!"

Pip smiled weakly and replied, "I'm simply tired of everyone thinking that I am a bloody girl!"

He laughed, "Don't do it. I like your hair when it's long."

Pip sniffled.

"Hey, Pip…"

His lips quivered and his vision blurred.

"Hey, dude, are you okay?"

He started to cry.

"H-Hey—!"

He began to cry harder and harder until he was shaking with gasps.

"Pip! Pip!" Damien gasped and hugged his roughly. "Please stop crying. What's wrong? What's wrong?" He asked in a panic.

Pip sobbed into Damien's chest and gripped the hem of his shirt. "Why did you leave?" His breath was shuddery and he didn't very much care about the position they were in. "Why did you leave? I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-so l-lonely."

"Pip,"

He lifted his head, blue eyes watery and red, and pulled in a shuttered breath. His lower lip quivered and he quickly covered his nose and mouth, trying to hide the fact that his nose was dripping with snot.

Damien frowned and placed his hands on Pip's shoulders. "Dude, I'm so sorry."

"Please, tell me why."

He continued to stare down at him and didn't answer.

"Please."

"I can't stay around for too long, Pip. I'm so sorry."

He gripped back onto Damien's waist and exhaled watery. "Please stay."

Damien gripped his hands with those oh-so hot hands and pulled them off of him. He slowly back tracked until his heels hung over the edge. Flames from hell flowed around his feet, scorching his carpet, but didn't harm him in the least.

"Damien, please wait." He begged.

Damien's eyes were duller than they usually were, as if he were gazing at him sadly. "Sorry Pip, but I can't stay."

"W-Wait!" He stumbled forward, attempting to latch onto him before he fell away from him once more.

"No Pip!" He quickly hopped back and exposed himself over the opening of the cavern underneath. He quickly fell into the bowels.

The opening rumbled shut quickly and suddenly sewed itself closed.

His floor looked like nothing had happened to it, even the burn marks were no longer.

"D-Damien?"


	5. Why Is This Whore Suddenly So Important?

Arc I: **Running**  
Chapter V: Why Is This Whore Suddenly So Important?  


* * *

He woke up with the sound of his alarm clocking blaring at him angrily. He rolled around onto his side and grumbled drowsily.

He didn't sleep a wink.

There were still way too many thoughts of Damien floating around his head, he felt as if he were going insane. It was maddening, living the way he was.

It was a week after his and Damien's last encounter, but it surely felt more like a whole year. His heart ached so much that it was hard for him to think about things. A lot of things reminded him of his best friend.

Especially heat.

It was so alien, being unable to act like a normal being. It seemed like his whole magnetic field had shifted and was now only pointed to Damien than at normal life.

In fact, once he had even noticed that he couldn't function properly without his new-found friend, he was so disheartened that it didn't bother him that he was now totally absorbed in the Anti-Christ's actions. Or, past actions that is.

By the time it was seven-forty-five, Pip still wasn't out of bed. So, he dragged himself out and combed his hair 'til it was flat and smooth. He would shower when he came home.

Being in the bathroom brought back memories of his last encounter which resulted in bringing back harsh feelings.

Pip sat on the edge of the bathtub and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, forcing back the tears that were edging out of them.

"Not now, Philip. Not now. You need to get to work." He told himself, shoulders trembling slightly.

He was out the door at eight-thirty, a bit late, and walked up the South Park highway towards the Middle Park mall. The only mall in Park County.

As he walked up the side of the street, only a few cars passed him. He had even seen Cartman, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny drive by in Kyle's old, beaten up jalopy. He couldn't understand why they rode in that old thing when they had Cartman's lovely new convertible to ride in, but they did.

* * *

He arrived to work late and looking tired, but he made it.

"Pip! Why are you late?" Sally yelled from the front counter.

He walked down the aisle of hairdryers and made it to the front desk. He pinned on his name tag and looked at her tiredly. "I'm sorry, but I didn't sleep well last night. I woke up late because of that. I'm so sorry."

"Are you okay?" She asked him.

He dozed off a little.

"Pip?"

"Hmm?" He asked, half awake and half asleep.

"Are you okay?" She asked again.

"Yeah, do not worry about it Sally."

He fell asleep and toppled onto the counter. His chin cracked against the desk and he jumped awake, wincing at the pain. He held his sore spot and danced a little.

"See Pip!" She pointed out, "You're so stressed out. Take a break!"

"I'm fine Sally,"

She gave him a look that told him she didn't believe him.

"It's true!"

"Look, Pip, you look like shit! You're acting funny and you're obviously not happy. I'm going to ask the manager to make you take tomorrow off. I have connections like that, you know. If you come into work, I'm going to take you shopping once my shift is over." She brightened suddenly, "Maybe you'll see Pops and Dad!"

"Please reconsider!" He begged her. All he wanted to do was be around others. The only thing he could do without looking odd was to work. Plus, working helped keep his mind off of Damien.

"No Pip!"

He stared at her before he asked her to once again to reconsider in a quiet voice.

"No! Pip, why are you so persistent? Is it a financial issue? I'll make sure you're paid for your day off, it's not a problem!"

"That's not it,"

"What is it then? You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"I'm lonely." The words barely made it out of his mouth.

Sally didn't move, "Pip…"

She dropped the subject right away, but made sure to keep her promise. If he came, she'd get him.

* * *

Pip stared at his ceiling, his alarm clock blaring, and felt his body tingle.

He didn't sleep once more.

The alarm kept going for six more minutes before he reached over and shut it off.

He stared at the ceiling again and then got up and readied himself for work.

The half-hour walk to Middle Park was uneventful. Cars sped by, of course, and he had even seen Kyle, Eric, Stan, and Kenny drive by him like they did the day before.

The road was too quiet, and at times, it was too empty.

The emptiness scared him a little.

* * *

He slowly stepped through the mall. He felt very out of place.

Pip stepped into the salon with hesitation.

Rebecca stood by the counter and smiled at him with excitement.

He gave her an apprehensive smile.

"Hey Pip!"

"Greetings," he replied and slid up to the front desk, "Is Sally here?"

"Well, I dunno'. Hey, did you see Kyle?"

"Yes, I saw him on the way here."

She smiled even brighter.

"Um, yes, could you possibly not tell Sally that I'm here? I—"

"Pip!"

He jumped and turned quickly.

Sally stood at the front entrance and gave him a sharp look.

Pip backed up until he hit the counter.

"What did I tell you?" She nearly shouted at the British boy.

"I'm sorry!" He exclaimed quickly.

Clients peered up from their magazines and conversations to look at the yelling couple. They watched as the drama unfolded.

"I told you not to come to work today! Why're you here?"

"Please Sally, I don't know what to do," his voice dropped, "I'm really lonely right now."

He stepped over to her, trying to keep their conversation at least somewhat private, "I'm so lonely it hurts."

"Pip, don't you have any friends?" She joked heartedly, not fully understanding the situation.

He hesitated, voice caught in his throat. "No," he confessed.

Sally faltered.

"I… Don't have anyone." His eyes lowered to the tiled floor, "No one,"

She stared at him, "Pip," she paused before she pulled down her shirt, "Go sit down in the waiting area until I'm finished with my shift. We'll go shopping soon,"

He nodded quietly and went over to sit like a little boy scorned. Well, technically he was.

* * *

He stared at the two shirts with a slightly sullen look before he took them from her.

"Go try the blue one on first and show me!" She said happily and leaned back on her heels.

Pip was suddenly reminded of Damien, much to his heart's displeasure. He walked into the dressing room and pulled off his shirt. He stared at himself in the mirror and wondered where Damien was (where in Hell) and what he was doing.

He face grew hot for a moment and he quickly pulled on the shirt.

What if he was watching him somehow?

"Oh dear," he murmured with embarrassment and pulled the sleeves further down. He gently stepped out of the dressing room and presented himself shyly to Sally.

"Ah! You look so adorable!" She shouted.

He blushed and shifted uncomfortably. "May I change back now please?"

"Yeah, 'course!"

He scuttled back into the dressing room and changed quickly.

"Do you want me to buy you that?" She shouted through the door.

"N-No thank you," He murmured as he stepped out of the dressing room with a weak smile.

"Are you sure you don't want it?"

"Yes,"

"Says you," she said.

"Well, yes, I did say that."

She laughed into her hand before she responded with a spark, "Oh right! C'mon Pip!"

He was dragged along.

* * *

"Pip, these are my parents!"

He stood, shocked, before he looked at her.

She smiled, "Pops, Dad, this is Pip. I work with him!"

He continued to stare.

"Ay, Phillip,"

"Yes, Terrance?"

"This guy sure doesn't look happy,"

"No he does not!"

Sally giggled to herself.

Pip stared.

"Maybe we should do something aboot that?" Terrance suggested.

"Yes!" Phillip exclaimed as he expelled a loud fart.

They both laughed hysterically.

Pip held a hand over his mouth and snorted into his palm.

Both comedians continued on with their banter of flatulence until people started to gather in the mall courtyard. Up on the second floor, a group of seniors cheered at the two while the people on the ground swarmed around them.

Pip felt himself burst into laughter as the two continued. He doubled over next to Sally and felt his face heat up. Tears built in the corners of his eyes.

He felt so alien, being surrounded by people like he was, especially a group of people who were laughing and enjoying themselves along with him. Not at him as they usually did.

Pip almost felt like he had died and he was in a heaven sort of state, experiencing something that made him just so happy.

He glanced at the clock on the east wall of the courtyard and quickly pulled himself into a state of calmness. "Yes, well, it's about time I go home. Nice to meet you both. Cheerio,"

"Wait! Pip!" Sally said to him quickly.

"Yes?"

She hugged him briefly, "I'm your friend."

He stared at her for a moment before he smiled, "Thank you."


	6. While Back In Hell

Part I:** Running**  
Chapter VI: While Back In Hell  


* * *

"C'mon Dad!" He groaned.

"Give it to me first," he ordered.

He hid it behind his back, "Do you promise to go to the orientation today if I do?"

"Of course!" Satan replied from the crater in their old couch.

Damien gave him a look.

"I swear Damien,"

He frowned heavily and pulled two tubs of Rocky Road ice cream from behind his back. "Fine,"

Satan ripped open one and spooned a decent amount of it into his mouth. Tears were forming in his eyes again.

The Anti-Christ exhaled heavily as he sat down next to his father, "You need to get over him. I'm serious. Go find someone else."

Satan snorted, "Like who?"

Damien leaned back and placed his boots on the coffee table, "Elton John?"

He smiled weakly, "He's not dead yet."

"Oh really?" He faked a thinking face, "I could have sworn I killed him."

Satan stared at his spoon and started to cry again, "I could have sworn that the collar would help make him act better." He exclaimed.

"Can't teach an old dictator new tricks." Damien joked lamely.

Satan didn't respond.

He groaned and pulled himself off the lumpy couch, "Time to go," he ordered.

He sobbed quietly into his hands.

"You lied to me, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"Damn it,"

* * *

"I'm your friend."

"Thank you,"

Damien rocked back on his heels and smiled faintly. "That'll keep him happy," he murmured to himself and stepped away from the group of seniors leaning over the balcony. If he weren't so amused already, he would have pushed one off.

He exited the mall and rounded around to the parking lot. He tore open a rift and jumped down into the hole. He landed in the first layer and brushed the dust off of his pants. He went over to the stage where the 'orientation' would be held to greet the new comers.

They always came at three p.m. and were supposed to be greeted by Satan.

But, he was still very crushed about Saddam leaving him (several times via death) and refused to leave the house.

So, in the mean time, Damien took over.

"Alright, all newbies to the left. All older residents go back to where you were before. You know what to do." The coordinator said as he stared at his nails in boredom.

The group of recently perished looked around with paranoia.

"Yes, well, now everyone! There will be a special guest to answer all your questions. Here's the Anti-Christ and the son of Satan, Damien!"

Half the group seemed shocked while the others gave suspicious looks.

Damien jumped onto the stage, feeling absolutely chipper, and grinned sharply at them. "Welcome to hell, everyone! Go ahead, ask your questions."

"I followed the way of God faithfully, so why am I here?" A bald man questioned from the front.

The group fired suddenly, shouting the same and similar questions.

"You followed the wrong religion… Next?" He shouted, feeling his smile grow.

"What's the right one?"

The group settled to listen.

"The Mormons were correct."

They all groaned.

Damien laughed, fire burning in his eyes as it always did, and stepped off the stage with a casual jump. He walked up to the group. "I know, I know. Really unexpected," He shrugged heavily, "You can never really tell what's right nowadays, can we?" He stepped up to the balding man from before and gave him an unidentified look.

With a flash, his hand shot out and gripped onto his broad forehead and fire rushed down his arm and onto the man's body.

The man screamed, falling back.

Damien laughed.

The group screamed.

"Welcome to Hell!"

* * *

"Geez, Damien, you seem really happy today."

He grinned, "Yes, well, Pip finally made a friend. I don't have to worry about him anymore." His eyes shinned.

The dark-haired coordinator looked at him with surprise, "Oh, that little blonde you have a crush on? Well, that's good to hear!"

Damien glared at him, "I don't swing that way, dude."

The other snorted, "Sure, and your dad's straight!"

Damien glared at him, "That is so not funny Malcolm."

He snorted again, "I thought it was pure gold."

Damien shoved him off his stage, "Shut up."

"Hey, not cool!" Malcolm yelled as he picked himself off the ground. He shook his head and a layer of dust flew away from him.

"'I thought it was pure gold!'" He mimicked with a high voice.

He sneered and lunged up onto the stage. He rolled and then jumped to his feet.

Damien clapped, "Impressive."

He grinned, "Thanks,"

He shoved him off again, "Now stop joking about stuff like that."

"Like what?" He shook again, more dust settled back on the ground.

"You know,"

"Nope, I don't."

He pushed him off the stage for a third time.

Malcolm blew the hair out of his face, "Fine, fine,"


	7. TCWCGC, KGP, APGH

Part I: **Running**  
Chapter VII: The Chapter Where Cartman Gets Creepy, Kenny Gets Pissed, And Pip Gets Hurt  


* * *

He stepped out of the mall and down the sidewalk towards the road. His hands were placed into his pockets to keep them warm and kept his eyes on the ground as he continued on.

He was startled to see the black and brown-haired boys from Cartman's group stalk over to him. His eyes shifted between them both swiftly as his heart rate accelerated at the sight of them. He knew what would come next and prepared himself to run. He turned swiftly and started to dash away.

The black-haired one caught him by the back pocket of his pants and yanked him over towards the brown-haired one.

He was pushed between the two goons until his perception became screwy. Pip stumbled and landed on his hands and knees.

The brown-haired teen hefted him up and pushed him towards the parking lot.

His mouth turned sour.

"S-Stop—!" A hand cupped over his mouth and muted him.

He looked around wildly, still somewhat dizzy, and saw that they were approaching a little blue car.

The black-haired one popped open the trunk and presented him to it.

The brown-haired one shoved him into it.

Pip gripped the edge of the trunk and tried to pull himself out.

One of the two, he couldn't tell which, stepped onto his hands and made him recoil.

The trunk lid slammed onto his head and he fell onto the floor. The lid was closed once more and he could hear the lock click into place.

He inhaled sharply and gagged. Acid gathered at the back of his throat and burned it, but he swallowed it back down. He could feel the horrid smell of the old trunk become engrained onto the skin of his nose.

Pip shuttered and wrapped his hands around his stomach. He wondered what they were taking him and why they threw him into the trunk. He wondered why he felt so shaken, since he was plenty used to being man-handled by the goons. He also wondered why they seemed so serious when it came to this assault.

He had never really ever thought about it 'til now, but what they were doing to him was technically kidnap…

He dry heaved and shuddered again. He screamed and banged against the lid, trying to get anyone's attention to help him.

The car was moving; obviously no one would find and help him.

He heaved again and gasped as his stomach acid burned his throat and tongue.

He shook.

* * *

The car stopped and doors were slammed closed.

The trunk hefted open and sunlight blinded him momentarily.

He was pulled out of the trunk and collapsed onto the ground. He looked around and found that only snow, the car, and a sagging old house off in the distance could be seen in his line of sight. He was man-handled back to his feet and pushed towards the old, peeling home.

It looked dirty and old; its baby blue paint was peeling to such a degree that large slabs of paint were sticking onto the side of the house by simple luck, seeming as if it were to fall off with a simple breeze.

He was forced inside and onto a lumpy green sofa. He looked at them with wide eyes and he wiped away the dry saliva on the side of his mouth.

"Wh—" He stuttered, the horrible stench from the trunk still in his nose, "What are you going to do to me?" His Adam's apple quivered as his body shook.

"We're not gunna do anything," the brown-haired one chided, "But our boss will."

His heart pounded in his ears and his diaphragm moving along with it.

Pip couldn't understand the pure fear that was instilled within him. He never felt so afraid when they bullied him before.

Maybe it was the setting? Maybe since they were in such an unfamiliar place, he assumed the worst?

He was pulled off the moldy, abandoned sofa and pulled towards a darkened hallway that branched from the main room. He was pushed further and further until a single beam of light revealed a doorway.

The flashlight rested against a table, pointed towards the door.

It gave it such an ominous look.

It made Pip's knees buckle.

The black-haired thug stepped ahead of them and threw open the door. The light disappeared within the darkness that was the room.

The brown-haired boy pushed him into the room.

Pip cried out as he found the floor fall from under him. He stumbled, soon thereafter falling, down the steps. He fell into the darkness that was the floor and groaned as he body ached from the fall.

The door closed behind him with the sound of the two boys laughing.

His eyes wandered in a panic as the dark ate him whole.

There was the sound of dripping in the background.

It was a slow drip.

Light flashed a bright circle on the cellar floor.

His eyes burned.

A pair of polished shoes rested near his nose. Something dark and sticky was on the bottoms and the toe of the shoes.

"Hello, Pip," Cartman greeted.

Pip slowly looked upwards and at the big-boned teen. The light around Cartman's head made him appear to have a halo, like an angel. But he knew better.

Cartman was pure evil.

He was pulled to his feet gently and dust was patted off of his neatly pressed shirt. Pip stared at Eric with confusion as the other presented him with an innocent (almost kind) attitude.

"So very sorry about my friends, I must remind them to treat guests better."

"Uh-um, yes…" Pip sputtered.

"But, now that you're here, please—" he waved a hand towards the darkness, "take a look at my work."

Cartman stepped out of the circle of light and disappeared into the sea of dark. The stickiness on the bottom of his shoes made small suctioning sounds.

Assisted with the sluggish dripping and the sticking sound, Pip found himself becoming more and more paranoid.

Then, light flooded the room.

His eyes squinted, pupils shrank, and his stomach squirmed.

Pip stood in horror, so shocked he could even make a move to vomit.

He gagged and swallowed down the bile.

Blood covered the whole wall in front of him, dripping down the wall and off of the mutilated pile of flesh that rested in the corner.

He knew who it was almost immediately.

Shards of orange cloth were scattered everywhere.

"K-Kenneth?" His voice was airy, fear seeped into his bones.

"Sure is," Eric stepped up next to him, "But don't worry, he'll be back soon."

Pip trembled at the gore.

"Do you understand why I'm showing you this?" Eric asked.

His breath was heavy, "I-I-I-I'm so-s-so-sorry, but—but I don't understand."

"Yes, I see," the words were puffed into his ear, hot and regal, "that means I have to tell you,"

A blade rested under his Adam's apple, every swallow scraping the blade against his skin.

"You, Frenchie, really annoy me," he growled, "If I ever find you resisting my friends, than I'll make sure to punish you like my dear friend Kenny."

Eric laughed airily.

"But you can't come back,"

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Kenny screamed at level one and stomped around angrily.

"Hey Kenny!"

"Hi Malcolm," the blonde greeted the black-haired coordinator.

"What get you this time?" He asked from the stage.

"Dude, it was the fatass! Jesus fucking Christ! He tortured me to death!" Kenny screamed.

"Oh yeah? Why he do that?"

"It's 'cause I called him fat a couple of times when we were at the mall. I dunno', he's been acting really malicious lately. I'm not sure what's going to set him off anymore."

Malcolm raised a brow, "That's a problem,"

"Kenny!"

The blonde turned to see Damien running towards him.

His shoulders were seized, "What's going on with Pip?"

Kenny pulled away, "Dude, personal space."

"I'm being serious, what's Pip doing?"

"How should I know? It's not like I'm friends with him or anything."

Damien held his head and groaned, "Shit, shit, shit!"

"Damien, don't interfere!" Satan yelled as he neared.

"What needs to happen? I worked hard to get a friend for him so he wouldn't get hurt anymore! Don't tell me he's going to get hurt!" His blood boiled.

Kenny stared from Satan to Damien feeling more confused.

"It needs to be done, me and God had this planned out for a while!" Satan told him.

"Dad, what did you plan?" Damien became even more enraged.

"You shouldn't see,"

Kenny turned quickly and headed for the elevator back to earth.

* * *

His revived body arose from a puddle of his old self's blood and looked at the horror stricken Pip and a gleeful Cartman.

"Fatass, what the fuck are you doing?" He yelled.

"Oh, you're back so soon?" Cartman asked with amusement.

Kenny grit his teeth together.

"That's good; you can help me take care of Frenchie here."

Pip was too frightened to reply to the insult.

"You sick bastard!" He turned to the Brit, "Pip, you get out of here as quickly as you can. I'll take care of Cartman."

Cartman brushed a finger across Pip's cheek in a soothing manner, "Remember our talk, Pip?" he cooed.

Pip trembled. "I—" his breath shuttered under the knife, "I'm glad you're alive, Kenneth."

"You can leave then, Kenny," Cartman urged, "Me and Pip have some business to take care of."

"What're you going to do to him?" He asked.

Pip's eyes wandered between the friends.

"Quite a lot of things."

He shuttered.

"Don't do it,"

"Oh, I'll do whatever I want." Eric pulled the blade away from Pip's throat and pressed it against his back. He jammed the large knife behind his scapula and twisted it back and forth slightly.

Pip screamed, heaving the little remains that were still in his stomach, and brought on tears.

"Hey!" Kenny yelled and jumped forward in action.

Cartman pulled the knife away and cut behind the other shoulder blade, making a deep gash.

Pip's eyes rolled up in his skull and passed out in Cartman's arms.

"Stop!" Kenny screamed and pushed Cartman away from the British boy.

Cartman propelled back and yanked the knife out of Pip's back.

The knife clattered on the floor loudly.

He caught Pip before he could fall.

Both of the boys' hands were covered in young Pip's blood.


	8. Nightmares Totally Suck!

Part I:** Running**  
Chapter VIII: Nightmares Totally Suck!  


* * *

He woke up screaming. His body was shaking horribly and his tears were streaming down his face. He gripped the covers and felt the imprints of his trauma etch his eyes, outlines of things he would prefer be long forgotten stuck to his vision. His body was so painful, he swore as if he were on fire again. He felt exactly how he felt nine years ago at Cartman's birthday party, where Damien sent him aflame for the sake of popularity. Saliva ran down the side of his mouth as his screaming became more intense.

Nurses and doctors hurried around him, sticking him with a needle and telling him to calm down. Telling him that was in a hospital and he was safe.

He could have sworn he had seen Sally somewhere in the background. He also could have sworn he had seen Kenny as well. Maybe even Damien.

He wasn't sure, though. He felt so delusional, like he couldn't trust what he saw. As if what he was seeing was one of the imprints that just couldn't go away.

At a point he had even seen the knife, in the hands of the doctor, pointed right at his throat. Before he could freak out, though, the drugs finally took effect on his paranoid body and forced him into sleep.

But, why couldn't he remember all of what happened?

* * *

The sky is red, like it is engulfed in a tank of watered-down blood. The clouds are thin, wispy, and dark brown. They are dangerous. The city street is consumed with chaos as delinquents take advantage of the scare and loot stores. Fire erupts all over, taking down running pedestrians as they rush for their lives.

Large, molten debris falls from the sky and strikes large craters into the city: crashing into high skyscrapers, crushing multiple cars parked on the street, and squishing people who were unlucky enough to be in its path.

The air is smog; musky with blood, gasoline, smoke, and grease.

The noise is just a simple growl as screams merge and chaos mixes together.

It is the end of the world.

In a high, secure watch building, a single man stands and watches the chaos with a malicious smile. His arms are held behind his back and he stands stock straight; perfect posture. He talks to himself, ranting about his achievements, speaking as if the current events were something to be proud of. As if he had done them single-handedly.

Perhaps he did.

Another man enters the observatory and holds a gun up to the other man.

He too pulls out his weapon.

They both exchange pleasantries, even if they're not all too pleasant.

He turns around.

Murder is committed in the room.

The man turns back to the window and places the gun back into his pocket. He smiles at his creation.

* * *

He jerked up and cried out as pain crushed his back. He collapsed back onto his bed and bit down on his lower lip. He couldn't move his arms and his neck was stiff.

Multiple hands gripped his and he snapped open his eyes to see both Damien and Sally at his sides.

"Pip, are you okay?" Damien asked in a rushed voice.

Sally seemed to be on the brink of tears.

"I'm fine," he replied, somewhat shaken still. He wasn't sure if what he said was a lie or not. He was overwhelmingly happy that his two friends were with him, but he was also still in horrible pain.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, looking at him with those small, brown eyes.

"I hurt," Pip replied in a mutter.

"I'll go get a doctor. I'm sure they'll raise your morphine," she said and bustled out of the room.

"Pip,"

He looked at him and blinked, "Yes?"

The other boy chewed back something, leaned back on his heels, and asked solemnly, "How are you feeling?"

Pip could have sworn he was just asked that by Sally, but he still felt sickly, and didn't feel right trusting his current judgment. "I hurt," he replied for a second time.

"I mean," he rolled his eyes, "emotionally."

"Oh!" He blinked at him and thought. He couldn't remember much of what happened, or if something did happen. All he could remember was that large knife pressed against his neck.

And dripping.

It was the only thing he could recall from the day before. Or maybe it was several days before?

He couldn't tell.

"I'm fine," he hesitated before he confirmed, "Yes, I'm fine. My memory is just a bit hazy."

"Yeah?" He sat down and stared.

It unnerved him a little. He nodded.

The doctor walked in and stepped over next to him. He slowly pressed the up button and nodded, "There you go, Mr. Pirrip." He promptly left afterwards.

He felt sleepy. He snuggled down into his pillows and shut his eyes. "Sorry mates, I'm just going to take a snooze."

"That's okay Pip; we'll be here when you wake up." Sally said.

That comforted him greatly but for reasons he wasn't sure.

* * *

The smell of burning flesh and freshly spilled blood fills the air and attacks his nose.

He stands stock still and feels his body shake with something akin to fear. More like he feels nervous; perhaps even sadness.

What preposterous feelings he is experiencing! It makes absolutely no sense.

The man in front of him screams in agony as the other man jabs a piece of heated metal against his forehead.

The man doing this odd action is muscular, tall, with dark hair that was hard to distinguish with the strange sky color. As he pulls back the iron, he smiles at the three sixes that were printed onto the submissive man's forehead. His lips move but words don't form.

Pip falls deaf and struggles in his skin at the sight of demons, large black creatures with sickly wings, fly around and slice the numbers '666' into the people's hands and foreheads.

The man propels himself further along and brings the melting metal to more people's skin, searing his mark into them permanently.

He doesn't understand why this satanic mark is being printed in mass amounts. Nothing is connecting for him and it drives him mad.

* * *

That was the first time in several days that he did not awaken with a start. He gently opened his eyes and felt him shakily wake into full conscious. To his great joy, Damien and Sally are sitting on both sides of his bed.

The sight makes him want to cry with joy.

Sally was fully asleep, her head rested against her shoulder.

Damien stared at him with increasing intensity, "'Morning," he greeted.

Pip turned his full attention to him and smiled, "G'morning,"

"Did you have another nightmare?"

He continued to smile, "Yes, Damien, but this one wasn't so bad."

"Sorry about that,"

"I'm sorry if I'm concerning you," he shot quickly.

Damien jumped to his feet, "Don't say that!"

Sally woke up with a start.

"I'm sorry," He muttered.

"It's okay,"


	9. What's Going On?

Part I: **Running  
**Chapter IX: What's Going On?  


* * *

He looked down at his arms, which were in slings, and gently sighed. His slid back onto his pillows and closed his eyes. This was just too much, he couldn't deal. "Please, tell me what happened."

"Can't do that, Pip," Damien said sharply, glancing over at Sally.

She hesitated before she shut her mouth, looking at the two with uncertainty.

"Please,"

"No,"

He opened his eyes and stared at him, "Why not?"

"Just because,"

Pip frowned before he glanced back at his arms, "R-Right-o,"

* * *

He stared at the large mound of homework Kenny lugged in with large eyes.

Could he have seriously missed that much work?

"Hey Pip,"

"Hello Kenneth," he smiled brightly and shifted himself up to an upright position.

He patted the small pile of paper and shifted towards the door, "Yeah, well, here you go."

"Thank you," he said faintly and glanced over at the group of papers. He couldn't help but wonder, though, how he was going to all this work without the use of his hands! It perplexed him.

Kenny glanced at him before he left the room, his back hunched and his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

Pip blinked and bit his lip as he thought. He blinked as an idea surfaced and he called for a nurse.

Perhaps they'd help him?

Damien and Sally were away.

He knew that Sally had to work, but he wasn't quite sure why Damien wasn't there. Pip shook his head. He was so selfish. Of course Damien wouldn't stay with him the whole time he was recovering. It was a ridiculous thought. Damien probably had a lot of work to do in hell; of course he wouldn't blow that off just for Pip.

A nurse walked in and smiled at him brightly. "What do you need, Sweetheart?"

He grinned weakly and motioned towards his work, "I'm so very sorry about this, but I need to do my work, but I can really use my arms. Could you possibly help me?"

She stepped over to his bed and glanced down at the pile, "Sure. But please understand that I might have to leave once and a while to help other people."

"Of course!" He flushed, "I'm so sorry for being a hassle,"

"It's okay,"

"Oh, uhm, sorry."

"Okay, what do you need written?"

"Um," he shifted uncomfortably, "History first, please?"

"Alright!"

* * *

"Sorry I'm late!" Sally shouted as she bustled into the room.

Pip smiled and watched her comically, "It is fine, Sally,"

"No, no, I probably worried you," she threw her bag down and sat next to him, "How is your back?"

"Please don't worry about it. My back hurts a little, but I'm fine," he replied shakily and looked at his finished work. He was so glad that nice lady helped him. Now all that he had to worry about was his teachers. He hoped they didn't think someone else did it for him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry about what happened Pip— !" She jumped and covered her mouth. "Oh shoot!"

"Sally, what happened?" He asked her intensely.

"Nothing!" She said quickly and pulled her bag onto her lap in order to distract herself. She dug around in it, keeping her eyes down, and nervously pulled out her own school work.

"Why won't you tell me?" He asked, looking at her woefully.

She didn't look at him and instead buried her nose into her textbook. She said nothing.

"Please, tell me!" He shouted, stomach turning sour.

"I'm sorry, but Damien told me not to!"

He stared at her, lips pressed into a line, before he glanced away from her and at the little television in his room.

A soup opera was on again.

He hated watching them.

* * *

Damien released a growl from the back of his throat and stalked up to the Cartman household. His hands were gripped so tightly, he could feel little cuts form from his nails digging into his palms. He spent an extra minute at the door to place on a relaxed face before he knocked on the door.

The door opened and Ms. Cartman looked at him with a smile. "Hello!" She greeted, "Who might you be?"

"I'm a friend of Eric's. Could I speak to him?" He felt his rage build in his stomach but kept it at bay.

"Sure!" She turned, "Eric, sweetie, one of your friends is at the door!"

"Mom!" He cried from up the stairs, "Who is it?"

She turned to him with question.

"I'm Blake," he grinned sharply.

"It's Blake!" She called back.

They stood for a moment, before a loud stomping sounded off.

Cartman stomped down the stairs, looking grumpy. "I don't know a Blake, Mom!" He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Damien smiled, before he turned back to Ms. Cartman, "Hmm, is that the phone ringing?" He asked her.

She turned and listened intently.

Damien's eyes burned and suddenly the phone rang.

"Oh! Yes! Be right back, honey!"

"But Mom!" He shouted.

She bustled into the kitchen to answer the phone.

Damien stepped into the room and bared his teeth, "I'm going to kill you,"

Cartman backed up and gripped the railing. "Oh yeah?" He was seriously pushing his luck.

"Yeah," he stepped forward and bright up his hands, "I'm going to rip out your heart and feast on it." He continued his trek towards him, "That is, if you do have a heart."

"Mom!" Cartman yelled.

She peeked her head into the room, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, "Yes, hun?"

"Da—Blake is being rude! Make him leave." He whined.

He glared at him before he glanced at Ms. Cartman. He quickly tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to the door. "I will get you," he threatened.

Eric smiled, "Sure,"

He expelled another growl and stalked out of the house. He would get him, once no one was around.

* * *

Damien presented his card to the woman in the elevator and descended down to Limbo. He quickly stepped over towards his house, searching for his father.

He peered into the room and spotted his father sitting on the couch, still sulking over Saddam. He clenched his hands tightly again and marched up to him.

"Why did you do this to Pip?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Nothing you need to know at the moment."

"Tell me."

"No,"

He ground his teeth, "Tell me,"

Satan squinted his eyes at him, "No,"


	10. Recovery and Explanation

Part I: **Running**  
Chapter X: Recovery and Explanation  


* * *

"TELL ME!"

"I didn't know that you'd fall in love with him, Damien. This was planned a little after you were born."

He stared at him, transfixed, before he slowly opened his mouth to speak.

"He's the Anti-Christ isn't he?" Damien asked in a slightly muted tone.

"If my plan works, you'll be the only one."

"Pip keeps on having these dreams about Armageddon. I'm not shown at all!"

Satan straightened at the statement, "You haven't?"

"No!"

"Hrm… Yes, well, that shall soon be fixed."

"W-Wait! I don't love Pip! Dude, that's not the way I swing!" He shouted, finally remembering his father's past statement.

Satan rolled his eyes and pulled another tub of ice cream out of the cooler near the couch.

"Yeah, and I'm straight."

"Why do people keep on saying that?"

* * *

His vision turns red as blood drips in his eyes. He wobbles on the spot, feeling light-headed, and watches the Anti-Christ loom closer and closer towards him.

"Philip, I told you not to resist my friends."

His vision begins to fade in and out before his knees finally give out and he collapses onto the bloody earth.

"I won't allow you to take Jerusalem." Pip tells him, even within the very weak position, as his visions blacks in and out.

"Too late Pip, but it's mine!"

His sight blurs, more blood drips onto his lashes, and he slowly rests his head against the ground.

"Bastard!"

* * *

Pip woke up without making a sound for once.

Damien stood at his side, eyes glowing, and frowned deeply.

"Never, ever, do anything so risky that it could get you killed."

"D-Damien,"

"Ever,"

Pip frowned and he quietly readjusted himself. He peered at the clock and found it to be very early in the morning. He wondered why Damien was still around.

"What day is it?" He asked, feeling deeply disoriented.

"Wednesday; why?"

He smiled brightly, "Today is the day I get to take these off! Jolly good!"

Damien's forehead creased.

Pip had never noticed how deep they were. He wondered when they had started to appear and hoped that those worry lines weren't made for him.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Damien still did nothing. His eyes were no longer on him.

Pip lowered his gaze to his arms and pouted unconsciously.

The Anti-Christ squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head briefly. He stepped up to him and hugged him tightly.

"Stop being so sad."

"I-I'm sorry,"

He pulled away and placed a quick peak on his cheek, "Don't be sorry. But seriously, stop making me so gay."

Pip stared, pouting.

"I'm serious, stop that!"

He didn't stop.

"Pip, don't."

He couldn't bring himself to stop.

Damien slid his hands underneath Pip's ears and brought him closer.

Pip's heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his fingertips.

"Damien," He huffed.

He pulled away, hands sliding back to his pockets, and looked at him with an amused look, "Yes?"

Pip sputtered.

Damien rolled his eyes and turned to leave the room. He exhaled heavily before he murmured with joy, "Gay Chicken is so much fun, sometimes." Then he promptly left.

"W-Wait, Damien!"

* * *

Just move your arm in a rotating motion."

He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his shoulder blades move stiffly. It hurt a little.

"Good, good. Now the other arm."

He repeated, wincing.

"Well, Philip, they seem to be healing well. I'm afraid there is still quite a lot of scar tissue, which may be a problem later. I'll schedule a surgery to get rid of some of that soon."

"Can I use my arms before that?"

She laughed to herself, "Yes, of course. Don't strain yourself though."

"Of course!"

The doctor smiled and stepped away from him and to the door.

He looked over his shoulder and strained to see the jagged scars that rested upon his back. He could feel something in his stir as he spotted a long tendril of pink of the scar.

* * *

"What the bloody hell happened to me?"

Sally looked over at Damien with a pale face. She gestured nonsense as she worried.

He kept a cool face, "You were… Attacked."

"What?"

"You were attacked…" His eyes squinted and fire burned.

Pip wasn't expecting that.

"W-Wouldn't I remember?" He was shocked. How could he have possibly forgotten about something like that?

"Repressed memory."

He sat still, looking at nothing, while thinking nothing.

"Who did it?"

"Eric Cartman."

And everything came back to him. Sweat poured down his face and he could feel the fear curl up in his joints. His heart raced as memories of everything that happened that evening came back to him; from the car trunk, to the mess that was formerly called Kenny, and to his attack. Everything.

Pip's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed back onto the hospital bed.

* * *

"Bastard!" The second Anti-Christ yells as he rushes up to Pip.

The young man continues to fade in and out of consciousness; the head wound already releasing too much blood too fast.

The darker-haired of the two slowly steps forward to help Pip to his feet. He slings the blonde's arm over his shoulder and squeezes him tightly to his side.

Pip rests his head on his shoulder, "You came back, Damien," he says happily, quietly.

He presses a kiss on the blonde's cheek and shakes his head.

The brown-haired Anti-Christ claps at the couple, grinning with an eerie enjoyment.

"What a sweet moment. Truly heart-warming." He says.

Damien glares at him, baring his teeth and all.

"And to think, when we were children, I thought you were straight. But oh well, like father like son, they say."

The fire around them grows as Damien's unruly temper grows.

Pip grips the Anti-Christ's hip and stares at him with large eyes. He speaks slowly, "Calm down, Damien."

His attention turns to the Pirrip again. He finally decides what to do.

"I'll be back for you," Damien swears as he picks Pip up from the side.

"Déjà vu," the other comments with a laugh.

He rips open a hole to Hell and carries Pip down into the bowels.

The other Anti-Christ doesn't move, even as his suit is set on fire.

* * *

"Pip! Wake up! Wake up!" Damien yelled, shaking the little seventeen-year-old.

His eyes snap open. Large, blue, afraid.

"He's going to kill me,"

"Tell me what you saw."

He stared at him, stomach squirming and heart pounding, "I saw you,"

Damien let go of Pip's shoulders and looked at him quietly, "What did I do?"

Sally exited the room, looking at them with sadness.

Pip flushed and gulped dryly, "You helped me off the ground and—and," he shuddered, "and kissed me on the cheek. Uh-Um, there was another man there. I—um, you set him on fire. Um… I woke up after that."

He rocked back on his heels as he stared at him with mild shock, "Oh yeah?"

Pip nodded.

They said nothing.

"Are you leaving soon?"

"Yeah…"

"Oh…"

"Yeah…"

* * *

He backed away slowly and felt his blood pressure rise.

The two goons smiled at him, knowing their boss' words.

"You want to die?" The brunette asked.

He stopped in his tracks, remembering Eric's words as well. He gave in.

The black-haired teen cackled and grabbed Pip by the elbow.

He was dragged to the Cartman household.


	11. He's Got a Gun!

Part I:** Running**  
Chapter XI: He's Got a Gun!  


* * *

"What should I do?" Damien asked as he lounged back on his couch.

Satan sat on the kitchen chair and stared at his son with quiet intensity. "You should get to work, Damien-kins. I mean it, if you don't take Jerusalem soon then the other Anti-Christ will. Do you want that to happen?"

"No," he muttered solemnly.

"Good. Then you should stop lying to Philip. He's going to find out soon enough. Make sure to tell him now before he finds out on his own and gets hurt even more."

"No! I can't! I worked way too hard to do that!"

"Damien, my son, you must take that spell off that girl! It's going to fade, and she'll forget all about him! Do you want him to be hurt like that?"

Damien frowned, averting his gaze, "No,"

Satan crossed his legs, "Go fix things. Now. The less time goes on, the better."

"Okay Dad."

* * *

Pip nearly fainted. He trembled, sweat dripping down his body, and felt his knees buckle. He gripped the wall to keep himself on his feet.

"Ho- Ho- How did you get that?" His eyes were watery.

He was smiling that horrible, retched smile again. The whole room was musky with his intense sense of superiority.

"Oh, you mean this?" He asked, holding up the handgun and twisting it around to show off. It glittered in the dim light.

"Yes,"

"You'd be surprised by what I can get my hands on. Connections are a beautiful thing. Oh! Before I forget, I've noticed that you seem less French today. I've also noticed that you didn't thank me for that."

The room closed in on him. His throat quivered and his eyes became even wider.

"Th- Th- Th- Th- Thank. You." He chocked out.

"What?" Cartman stepped forward.

Pip pressed himself further against the wall, "Th- Thank. You…"

"What? I still didn't catch that." His girth pressed Pip further against the wall.

"Thank you!" He nearly screamed.

Cartman patted him on the head, "Good boy,"

Pip gasped for breath mutely as Eric backed away. He couldn't help but notice that the gun was gone.

"Do whatever you want with him; I'm going to get something to eat." He told his two goons and left the room.

* * *

In the entirety of his life, Damien never felt so nervous. He, as well, had never felt so compelled to stare at someone, let alone Pip, with such intensity.

He stared.

Pip slowly wrote down notes, amazed by the how such small hand tasks involved almost everywhere in his body. A simple stroke of a pencil did indeed move a part of where he was wounded. He found that simply amazing.

Damien continued to stare.

And then he had an epiphany.

"Ah, hell,"

Pip turned to him, halting his note taking, and stared back.

He liked Pip.

"What is it, Damien?"

He liked Pip.

"Damien?"

"Nothing,"

He liked Pip, a lot.

He was so screwed.

* * *

"So, did you do it?" Malcolm asked from his stage.

Damien looked at him with a hard face, "How do you know about that?"

"Your Dad told me," he replied with a grin.

"You need to stop hanging around with my Dad. It's getting really annoying."

"Oh, I'm sure! But really, did you do it?" He was very enthusiastic.

"Nope,"

"Don't lie to me!"

"I didn't do anything,"

"Then why do you seem different?" Malcolm had a keen eye.

"Haircut?" He offered, jokingly, sullenly.

"Seriously."

"Oh, seriously. Ugh," he gripped his forehead and sighed, "Please don't go spreading this around."

Malcolm jumped to it, leaning close to him and listening.

"I like Pip,"

"Pft!" He backed away with a laugh. "I knew that already!"

Damien frowned.

"I _knew_ it!"

"Shut up!"

" I. Knew. It!"

"_Shut up_!"

Malcolm giggled, "You should listen to me more,"

"Shut up,"

* * *

Pip smiled, "Hi Sally!"

"Hey Pip!"

He walked to the counter and pinned on his nametag.

"So, I hear your surgery is tomorrow. Are you excited?"

Pip shrugged slowly, unused to the movement still.

"It would be nice to have these scars gone. Or, at least, not as noticeable." He replied with a grin.

"Oh, I'm sure—" She blanked out as Damien stepped into the salon.

"Pip, I need to talk to you."

"Oh, right-o!" He stepped over to the door and smiled at him.

Damien lowered his head, "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"'Bout what I did. I tricked you. I'm so sorry."

"I still don't know what you're taking about." Pip told him with large eyes.

"I forced Sally to be your friend." His head still hung low.

"What?" He was stunned.

"I put a satanic spell on her to make her think that you two were old friends. I even made her think that her parents were Terrance and Phillip. They're not even gay. Well, maybe they are. I don't really care. Anyway, I paid them to play along." The words were voiced so quickly, Pip almost didn't catch them.

"What?" He repeated.

"I'm fixing her, Pip. I'm sorry about lying to you."

"What?"

Damien loomed over him, looking at him with apology, and gave him a light peck on the forehead.

"Sorry," he quickly made his exit.

The ladies at the dryers cooed at the two (now one) boys.

Pip stared at the door, blue eyes stretched wide, and let his mouth hang open. He turned to Sally and almost screamed at the way she ignored him.

"What the—?"

* * *

"Did you tell him?" Satan asked from his chair.

"Nope," Damien replied from his couch, covering his face with his hands.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not ready."

Satan sighed, "Damien, Hun, you shouldn't stall! It'll just drive you crazy and scare him away."

"I don't want to hear advice from you Dad."

"Why not?" He was offended.

"Because you keep on falling in love with a guy who always uses you!"

"At least I admit my feelings."

Damien threw his head back and groaned.

"Well, then you should go ask that boy Malcolm out. He's nice, sharp, and funny. Plus, you two seemed to hit it off!"

He gagged quietly, "Then why don't you go out with Adolf?"

"Oh no!" He said quickly, "After my failed attempt to take over the world during his reign, we haven't been too close. Anyway, he's straight, you know that!"

"Hmm, true."

They sat quietly in the living room, stewing in their pathetic love lives.

"You need to get to work," Satan mentioned as he peered at his nails, "You don't want Eric Cartman to be the Anti-Christ."

Damien bit back a snarl, "Yes sir."


	12. Twelve Years Later

Part II: **Riot!**  
Chapter I: Twelve Years Later  


* * *

_Hallo_ is German for 'hello'. Pretty obvious.  
_Dieses is_ means 'this is' in German.  
_Wer sind Sie_ means 'who are you' in German.  
_Gut zu hören_ means 'good to hear' in German.  


* * *

Pip stared at Christophe with an unhappy look.

The Frenchman returned the look.

Stan and Kyle stood off to the side, giving each other looks of concern.

The Englishman of thirty years scoffed, answering, "Why would I join a group that is lead by a French pig?" He gestured roughly towards the other.

Christophe's grip on his shovel increased, his teeth dug all the way through the butt of his cigarette, and his dark eyes squinted angrily, "Why would z'I want a pahmpered, British queer in z'my group?" He shot back like a cobra.

"Oh," Kenny dragged out in the sidelines.

Kyle sent him a 'shh'.

Stan sighed before he muttered, "They've been at it forever now. They've been repeating the same thing over and over."

Pip stomped up to him, gripping him by the collar, and hefting him off the ground as much as his arm could muster, "I'm no Nancy anymore."

Christophe spat to the side and pushed the blonde away, "Z'I sees no stengz in you. Z'I only sees a pussy!"

Pip took a threatening step forward.

"Okay guys! That's enough. We understand that you don't like each other. Whatever. But we need as much help as we can get. Pip, please join us. Christophe, please deal." Stan shouted at the two.

Pip paused before he sighed. He straightened out his hat and turned away from the Frenchman.

"Sorry about that," He bit his tongue, "Mate."

"Z'I am 'orry az well," the words were stiff, "_mon ami."_

Christophe turned his back as well.

Kyle sighed.

Kenny laughed.

* * *

"So what have you been doing, Pip?" Kyle asked over the very large dinner table.

"Revolting," he replied as he observed the rustic looking cabin with a keen eye.

"Oh really?" He looked over at the Frenchman with worry before he turned back to the Englishman, "Where?"

"Germany, and what of you?"

"Oh so you were a part of those! Yes, well, I've kept a watchful eye on Cartman as well."

"Ditto," Stan replied beside Wendy.

She grinned back, "I've been here, helping the OIA. They've gathered some good information on Cartman with the assistance of the CIA."

"Z'I've been revolting az well. In France Germany and Poland." Christophe added.

Everyone turned to Kenny.

He smiled and replied, "The usual. Watching porn, making porn, dying on a regular basis. You know, the usual."

They all ate silently and kept to themselves (with an exception to Wendy and Stan who were flirting.)

"Does anyone know where Token, Craig, and Clyde are?" Kyle asked as his finished off his salad.

"I dunno'. But dude, where's your brother?" Stan asked his best friend.

"Canada,"

"Ah!"

* * *

"Kenneth?"

"'Sup, Pip?"

Ice ran down his veins, "Have you seen Damien lately?"

"Pip," Kenny paused and stared at him, "I haven't."

He looked at the deck, "Oh,"

"You really like him, don't you?"

"Yes,"

"That sucks," he said in only the nicest of ways.

"Indeed,"

They clinked beer bottles and drank to their world, watching as the moon began to set and the sun arrive.

"Wanna spoon?"

"Goodness no!"

Kenny laughed.

* * *

The Resistance base was located in Maine. In the woods. In a cabin. A rather nice little cabin, though. It was very rustic cabin that was nice and warm, as well as very comfortable.

It made Pip feel strangely at home.

Feeling at home was not something he felt everyday. Ever since he moved to Germany he was never allowed to stay at once place for too long; less than a week at times. In fact, he had trouble staying in a certain place more than once. He even had to move out of country to avoid suspicion. He regularly had to change his name as well.

His name was Patrick Reid at the moment.

Philip Pirrip was currently living in North Park next to the Park County Library in a house that didn't exist. But, it was a very nice library.

* * *

"Bebe is still in South Park, last time I talked to her. We can't ask Red because she has two kids to take care of. I heard that Tweek is in LA making a name for him in the coffee industry. I think his business is better than Starbucks now, or something." Wendy told them. She adjusted her coat and sat down next to Stan.

"Butters is coming up. He should be here sometime this week." Kyle told, "Oh, Ike is coming here too. He'll be here soon."

"Zat iz good to hear," Christophe commented, tightening the screws to the handle of his shovel. This operation required some intense shoveling.

"This is just a rumor, but I have heard that Token is in Moscow." Pip muttered from behind Christophe.

"Not that much of a surprise," Stan replied as he laced his fingers together.

"We need a definite answer. Token is still the richest out of us all and we need as many resources as we can possibly get our hands on." Kyle added.

"I can get my followers to help." Both Pip and Christophe said in unison.

They paused and looked at each other sharply.

"Good idea, the people know and help, the better position we'll be in." Wendy told them.

The two foreigners ignored each other.

There were several knocks at the door and Kyle stood up to answer it.

"Password?" He asked through the door.

"You didn't say anything aboot a password, Kyle!" Ike said with frustration.

"Just guess."

"Don't tell me it's something predictable like 'Le Resistance' or something." Ike yelled.

Kyle paused before he opened the door.

"Oh, that's weak." He mumbled as he stepped inside, "We need to change it,"

"I told you Kyle!" Wendy called.

"Be nice to him, Baby!" Stan whispered furiously.

* * *

"Good to see you Butters!" Wendy greeted.

"Golly, good to see you too!" He replied.

Off in the house, Pip felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"The bloody—?" He huffed and flipped it open, "_Hallo_?"

He shifted in his spot, eyebrows scrunched, "_Dieses is Patrick. Wer sind Sie_?"

Pip smiled brightly, "_Gut zu hören_!" He nearly shouted, "_Gut zu hören. Gut zu hören."_

He shut his phone with a vibrant smile on his face.

"Who waz zat?" Christophe asked as his eyes squinted.

"Hey, is that a secure line?" Stan asked from the door.

"Of course! I'm not that much of a git, Stanley." Pip replied, shoving the cell phone back into his pocket, "That was one of my followers. Cartman's having a rally soon. He'll be guarded, obviously, but some sniper work can happen. We can end this now!"

Stan smiled brightly, "That's great!"

The Frenchman cut in quickly, "How do we know zis izn't a trick?"

Pip bit back a sharp retort and instead answered, "I've known her for a very long time. We can trust her."

"You better be right," he jabbed a finger against the other's chest, "Or else our failure will be your fault."

"This is no trick," he replied, pushing away Chris' hand.

"Zat better be ze truz."

They glared.

* * *

Wendy grinned, "We've confirmed Token's location. We've contacted him and he's coming right away."

Everyone in the room cheered.

"But! We have even more good news! Token has still kept in touch with Craig. He called him and Craig is coming along as well!"

"Aren't Craig and Clyde still friends? Do you think he's still has contact to him?" Kyle asked with hope.

Wendy sparked, "Yes, I think so. We'll get in touch with him once Craig gets here."

"I called Tweek. He wants to help, but he has to watch over his business. He may or may not help." Stan told them.

"Actually," Christophe tipped in, "He may be able to help us wiz out coming here. He may be able to spread ze newz via hiz business."

Stan pulled out his cell phone, "Good idea,"

"Cartman's rally will be held in two weeks. We have some time, but we need to find out where it will be. Then, we must find the best spot for attack." Pip told them as he sat down on the couch.

Butters sat down next to him and looked at the group with hesitation.

"Good planning everyone," Stan shouted. He clapped his hands together, "Let's get to work!

* * *

Cartman laughs as he steps over mounds of bodies, both dead and alive. He keeps his hands in his pockets, appearing casual and pristine, and continues his leisurely walk. He seems as if he's waking through a park, not an actual battleground.

"I see you're back from Hell," he calls to him.

"Yup," Damien replies.

"Where's your toy?" He inquires with a grin.

"That's for me to know and for you to not,"

"Oh, touchy subject. How delightful!"

Damien laughs to himself, "That was pretty gay sounding."

Suddenly, Cartman's cool demeanor falls for a brief second.

"Aye—!" He stops himself and calms down, "I'm not gay."

Damien smiles more, "Alright,"

Cartman's eyes intensify.

"Let's finish, 'kay?"

"Yes, let's."

* * *

Pip pulled himself out of his dream and hung his head to his knees. He just had to dream about that scene again. As if seeing it every night for the past year wasn't enough.

He was such a pathetic man.

* * *

Token and Craig arrived at the same time.

"Hey you guys!" Stan greeted.

"Hey Stan."

"Go take a room. Man, is there any room left?" Kyle asked himself.

"Think so,"

"Hope so," Craig said as he pulled himself through the large cabin and towards the rooms.

"I agree," Token added and followed suit.

"There should be," Pip called from the couch, sipping Earl Grey. He pulled out his phone with anticipation and answered it quickly.

"_Hallo_?" He paused, "You want to speak English? Right-o." He mumbled into the speaker with agreement.

"In Heilgendamm? Where there?" He nodded and stood up, "Please Sally, don't ramble like that. Yes—! Yes, Sally, please just— Yes. Yes, I know. Thank you for all the help." He muttered. He sighed and hung his head.

Everyone by him laughed a little to each other.

"Yes, we'll be there. Don't fret."

He let out a sigh of relief, said his good-byes, and closed the cell phone.

"The rally is at the Kempinski Grand Hotel." Pip finally announced as he fisted his phone into his pocket.

"Cool. Then afterwards we can go to Kühlungsborn!" Kyle said with excitement.

Wendy grinned excitedly and held Stan's hand tighter, "I heard that place is great! Stan, let's go to the beach there!"

"Plenty of spas. Nice way to relax after worrying all these years." Kyle added.

"All right, letz get ready!" Christophe called to them.


	13. We're Off To Germany!

Part II: **Riot!**  
Chapter II: We're Off To Germany!  


* * *

_Italics_ are words spoken in German.  
_Fils de une chienne_ means 'son of a bitch' in French.  


* * *

They left for Germany right away.

Everyone: Stan, Kyle, Wendy, Craig, Token, Butters, Ike, Clyde, Kenny, Bebe, Christophe, and Pip went out to buy some goodies. These goodies were, in fact, only available behind a certain little mart and in a little abandoned space in the subway.

It was busy in the black-market. After all, it was Friday.

Christophe did most of the wheeling and dealing, partly because the others didn't know much about dealing illegally. As well, he had this sort of skill of negotiation that ensured that they would indeed get their worth and not be fooled.

Ike, Craig, and Butters scouted the outside of the hotel, knowing full well that Cartman would be outside the area sometime soon.

The white buildings made the shadows in their nooks bright; light enough to see something. As well, the brightness didn't provide much cover, even when wearing lightly colored clothing.

The three found out by sheer coincidence that the rally would be gated and only those who passed through a metal detector and a pat down could get into the Hotel grounds. Indeed, when they saw the people setting up the machines at each opening of the gates and guards already stationed all around the area, did they truly see how serious they were about the man's protection.

* * *

"You have to wonder what he's planning." Kyle commented as they settled down in their hotel rooms.

Pip kept quiet, feeling no need to bring up his Apocalyptic dreams.

"Really. I can totally see him turning Neo-Nazi and all. Hell, this is Cartman we're talking about. But, you know, this whole thing just feels off." Stan explained.

"Y-Yes," Butters rubbed his knuckles together, "I've noticed that as well."

"I saw this coming a mile away," Kenny replied, laid back.

"Yeah, but you have an unfair advantage. You die all the time; you could be taking hints from God for all we know!" Craig said.

He shrugged, "God. Satan. Whatever."

"What do you think, Pip?"

He couldn't tell who asked, but the instant the sound hit his ears, Pip's mind turned blank. He couldn't fathom why this question (out of all the questions that he could have been asked) stuck to him the way it did. His heart seemed to slow, blood turned to sludge, and his mind frosted over.

"Pip,"

He couldn't move.

"Hey Pip!"

The Frenchman smacked the Englishman over the head, "Don't freeze up now, you sonovabitch!" He yelled at him.

He was scolding hot now. So much that his veins cleared and his head headed back to normalcy.

"What did you say?" He called as he stood and spun to face him.

Christophe raised a fist.

Pip followed.

"Guys! Stop fighting and listen to this!" Bebe yelled at them and turned up the tele volume.

Pip's ears perked and he lowered his enclosed hand. He turned to the television and stepped up behind the group.

"News update! India has elected a new President! We know very little of the new President or of the new Prime Minister that has been selected as well, but what we've gathered tells us that it is a man and that he's never presented his self to the public. A very tricky fact for being elected, this news anchor says.

"As well, all information in and out of India has but cut off. Internet, mail, phone signal, trade, and even carrier pigeon have been terminated. Anyone flying, sailing, or driving into India at this very date will not be allowed out of the country until the isolation period is over." The newscaster said.

Pip leaned forward, "What?"

"Zis may be a problem," Christophe said before behind.

"Who could it be?" Stan wondered aloud.

"No one from South Park," Bebe said.

"That shouldn't matter! If that person is threatening the country we should stop them!" Wendy told her best friend.

"Let's not make assumptions. How do we know this is a threat to India?" Token asked them.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ike asked as he pulled himself away from the couch, "All information has been cut off. As well, they're holding foreigners now. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

"My bro has a point." Kyle rebutted.

Pip frowned, "Do you think this is Cartman as well?"

Everyone looked at him.

"Is that even possible?" Clyde questioned.

"Yeah, how can someone rule a country without being there?" Butters added.

"With a copy?" Craig suggested, casually uplifting his middle finger to everyone.

They sat and fermented in the idea.

"God, I hope not."

* * *

A hole opened from the ground and Christophe stuck his head out to look. He motioned for the people behind him in the tunnel with his flashlight. He went back down into the bowels of his tunnel.

Pip pulled himself out of the tunnel and felt the cool air rush against his skin. His breath condensed in the air and floated away from his face and joined the clouds of other ones around him. He stood up and slid into the crowd almost seamlessly.

Wendy followed along with Stan and Ike.

It was dark out, but the lights cast against the hotel made the area glow. Guards stood everywhere, even within the crowd.

Pip stepped and prodded through the throng of excited bystanders. He adjusted his hat and made it closer to the front.

Cartman, surprisingly thin and regal, stood at the front by his podium.

Many bodyguards were by him.

Eric walked behind his podium and rested his hands against it. He leaned forward, eyes scanning the crowd, before he pulled on a flawless fake smile.

Slowly, the crowd settled down.

"_Today, your President died."_ The statement was bold and spoken without a slip. Clear like water, it slid through the crowd until they started to question.

"_But you're standing right there!"_

_"What do you mean?"_

Pip felt his stomach ice over. What could he possibly by talking about?

"_But I survived my attack. That man who tried to assassinate me is standing amongst you."_

Pip could feel it. His eyes on him, wanting to scream out to him. Philip could hardly wrap his hand around his gun, fingers chilling straight to the bones and the tendons, and waited. He could feel the cloth of his shirt counseling the weapon in his hand, but it didn't provide a good enough cover for the chill that was in him.

The people stirred. They were very confused now.

Cartman's hand pulled away from the podium and pointed down to the crowd.

Right to him.

People backed away from the area, leaving him and a group frightened witnesses.

Pip pulled out the gun, blood gushed through him as his adrenaline spiked to an all time high. He yanked back the hammer and aim, placing the marker straight over Cartman's chest, right where the heart would be.

"_Hello _Pip."

"_Hello _Cartman."

The two were relatively calm in appearance.

Wendy, Stan, and Ike held back the guards.

"_Is there something you wanted to say?"_ Eric asked.

Pip could feel the gun slick between his sweaty hands. His heart stung with anticipation.

_"Are you behind what's happening in India?"_ He couldn't understand why that question was what escaped first.

_"Nope,"_ he was still smiling.

Pip wanted to punch him square in the jaw.

"Cheerio then," he said in a very mellow-dramatic way as he squeezed the trigger.

The bodyguards copied him.

"Pip," Eric said to him, obviously not harmed by a bullet that was shot in his direction, "make sure not to forget. I will never allow you to avoid my friends."

He almost passed out at those words.

A gun was fired.

Pip felt a yank at his ankles and he tumbled back onto the ground. The bullet grazed the side of his head, allowing blood to release in a quick stream down his face.

"You fool!"

He was dragged into a tunnel, forced to his feet, and pushed along.

"You _fils de une chienne_!"

He was pushed more and more until he was at full run.

Christophe pushed past him, growling angrily, "It waz a trap. A trap!" He screamed.

Pip looked at him quickly, pressing his hand roughly against his head wound, "What do you mean?" He yelled back.

"Zey 'ave captured Kenny, Stan, Wendy, Ike, and Clyde!" Christophe screamed at him. He stopped his dash and gripped Pip by his shirt.

"Zat girl was a spy! A SPY! It waz all a set up! You stoopid Englishman!" He was yelling so intensely that his face was turning red.

Pip felt hazy.

Christophe was swearing now. So many in several different languages that Pip couldn't keep track.

Without notice, Pip was slugged on the cheek. He stumbled backwards, biting his cheek on the way.

He swore.

Gunshots were fired as the guards made their trek further towards the two foreigners.

Pip scrambled to his feet and ran, pulling Christophe with him.

* * *

Pip curled in the alley and stared at the wall. His head wound was wrapped with gauze.

Kyle stood next to him.

Tears curled in his eyes.

"Pip, we need to get going. We can go save the others once we get a plan made." Kyle told him.

He looked up at the Jew, "How could you possibly trust me still? My facts were wrong. My long time friend is a spy." He cleared his throat, "Was my friend."

"Pip, there are plenty of reasons why we still trust you. You were shot so you weren't with them obviously. As well, he messed with you pretty badly." Kyle told him.

Pip slowly stood up and turned to him. "You can do this without me. I'm an obstacle for you chaps."

"Don't say that Pip!" Bebe said as she stepped up to the two.

"Why not? He sayz ze truz." Christophe muttered from the opposite wall, "'E iz just a problem."

Pip stared at him sharply, "Yes, I'm going to investigate India," he paused, "And please tell the others that I'm sorry for what I did.

"Pip,"

He walked away.


	14. Nirvana: No, Not The Band

Part II: **Riot!  
**Chapter III: Nirvana: No, Not The Band  


* * *

At first, he was a bit worried. Had the total close off of India mean absolutely no entrance? As well, what pilot would willingly trap him or herself in a foreign country?

He was rather surprised by the number of people willing to trap themselves within India for the simple sake of curiosity. There was actually a group of people willing to do exactly that, he found out with some research.

So, he flew to the meeting place (Fairview, South Dakota) and waited for six days at a motel for the departure day. The town (more like a village) didn't even have enough people to even need a motel. It was more like a place for the homeless.

Nevertheless, the owners were happy to see some business for once.

It sort of reminded him of South Park. He really missed that place.

Out of the six nights he stayed, he only slept for one.

* * *

The wind was strong as it pressed against his face. Hs hair tussled around his bandages and against his skin. He shivered as the air chilled straight through to the bone.

He airplane was, in simple terms, a wreck: a crude little plan at a tiny hand-me-down plane terminal. It seemed very dangerous but he played along.

The group of around twenty crammed themselves deep into the tiny plane, crammed themselves into the seats, and crammed up next to each other. So very close they were; it was certainly no place for someone who couldn't handle close places.

The man next to him hissed with annoyance at the proximity. "It's so tight in here!" He groaned.

Pip nodded with agreement, feeling his arms sting against the wall and the man's flabby forearms.

"So boy," the man said, red-faced, "What happened to your head?"

Boy?

He shook off the odd comment and replied in a muddled tone, "Gunshot," while keeping his eyes adverted.

"Yeah, and my butt sucks buttermilk."

His frown deepened, "What an odd saying." He muttered as he slowly ground his teeth together. He didn't know how long he'd last next to this strange New Yorker crammed within a plane that was more suited to be calling a can. He wasn't sure how long it would take the little thing to get to the peninsula, but he was certain that it would be too long.

* * *

Pip held his head and stepped out of the plane.

_Twenty-two bloody hours._

He felt like shit. He and the other curious travelers walked down the terminal and stared at the groups of different families waiting to go home.

The sorrow was pretty much palpable as the people sat amongst one another, wallowing, and waited for the isolation to lift.

Pip parted from the group once they made it outside and flagged a taxi.

As the taxi veered away from the airport, he couldn't help but notice that the roads leading out of India were heavily guarded with large walls and many people who served as guards. The decreasing amount of poverty seemed evident as they traveled further into the area of Bodh Gaya.

Pip was amazed at how well India was going in its efforts to cut their poverty levels. Whoever was leading this country was doing a good job so far.

* * *

Communication was hard.

He found himself becoming lost as he walked down the streets, surrounded by people, seeing and hearing a language he never experienced before. There were very few people, of whom he had asked, who understood English. But finally, he found someone who could help.

"Where could I find the president?"

"Our leader…? Oh! Yes, he is at Mahabodhi Temple, of course!"

"Right-o! Thank you!" He rushed off.

He stopped suddenly and turned back to the man, "Which way is that?"

* * *

Mahabodhi Temple was a gigantic Buddhist/Hindu temple that rested in front of a sacred tree of sorts.

Pip found the whole thing peculiar, but he knew that was just his mono-religious thinking at work. Had he ever been really surrounded by more variety other than Christianity, he was positive the whole concept of a temple like the Mahabodhi Temple wouldn't have given him the chills the way it did.

Apparently, India's president resided within said temple. He had sworn to keep himself locked away within 'The Temple' (for simplicity sake) until he had reached a level of divine understanding (or nirvana.)

So, he was meditating within the main room of 'The Temple'. There was even rumor that he didn't need to be fed or allowed to use the bathroom.

As if the man were already divine.

But that was simply and rumor and only the most devoted believers truly believed in it.

The whole 'reaching nirvana' thing had Pip on his guard as well. The concept as well felt so odd and weird.

In fact, he wondered if this was how Kyle's family felt, being the only Jewish family in a town of Christians…

As well, he had to wonder why the people of India would elect such a man to rule their country. His priorities seemed to be in the wrong places.

He supposed that his intense state of diligent and religious vigor made the people like him; it was one of the things that influenced their decision to make him their leader.

By the time he had made it there, people who were waiting for a chance to get in and meditate next to their spiritual leader surrounded the front of 'The Temple'.

Pip felt so very overwhelmed.

* * *

He spent ten days camping with nothing surrounded by hundreds of people.

By the time he made it towards the entrance, he was filthy, hungry (thankfully, people came around selling food) and sore.

But, he finally made it in.

Philip and the group of thirty-nine others walked down the halls and towards the main room.

The first thing Pip saw was a man with shiny brown hair.

His heart instantly fell. But, he continued on anyway, feeling privileged to even get this far despite the fact that he was not from this country and was most likely here illegally.

Pip sat down in front of the man and looked at him.

He looked nothing like Damien.

The younger looking man was sure that the charismatic man in front of his was not the male he was searching for. He felt horrible about this, but found that he didn't regret his decision to come to the country.

Surely if he stayed anywhere else, the government would catch slew of his actions in Germany and arrest him.

It was for the best that he lay low in a place that was out of contact with the outside world.

Even if the man near him wasn't the one, he found himself staring and pondering. He couldn't necessarily tell what nationality he was. The president was Caucasian (like that wasn't much of a surprise) but his shade didn't match a single group Pip could think of.

He wasn't pale. He wasn't pink. He wasn't even a slight tan.

He was more of a subtle gray color.

Pip folded his legs and closed his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled heavily, calming down his naturally fluttery heart and went into a state of half-sleep relatively quickly. He didn't know what to search for in his inner mind, so he kept still and thought about things.

"_I've done it."_

Pip's eyes flew open. He stared at the guards nearby and then at the leader.

A man whispered something into the leader's ear.

Pip's heart nearly stopped as the spiritual leader opened his eyes and brought his self out of meditation.

The other people gasped at the sight.

The man's eyes were the exact same black color as someone's pupils may be. But what was truly amazing was the sheer power that one felt when one where looking into them, as if they saw a burning yellow flame within them.

"Damien?"

The man stood up quickly and paced forward to him with speed that Pip didn't expect to see from such a plump man.

"Pip?" He peered at him with shock before he slid his hands onto the sides of the blonde's head.

Pip shifted in his spot and continued his long bout of staring at the odd man who acted so much like Damien.

They stared at each other.

The people all around them stared at both males with utter confusion.

"What happened to you?" His eyes shifted over to Pip's bandages.

Pip laughed humorlessly and awkwardly while blushing. He pulled away Damien's hands and replied in a cool voice, "That is a story for another day."

He could feel it. This man was Damien. He just knew it.

Damien looked around before he quickly turned a heel and smiled at every one of his onlookers, _"Everyone, I have reached nirvana!"_

Everyone cheered.

Pip didn't understand what had just happened but clapped and went along with whatever just happened. His heart was still pounding like crazy.

* * *

As he sat in 'The Temple' he finally remembered something of importance.

"My vision was a fake." Pip concluded with excitement.

"What?" Damien asked as he turned to his old friend.

Pip was happy to see that Damien looked more like he did when they were teenagers when he took off his disguise. Even though he was a little unshaven and messy appearing.

"One of my first visions was about Cartman shooting me. You appeared all of a sudden and helped me. I said you finally came back, so that must mean that we had just reunited at that time!"

Damien smiled triumphantly, "Yes!"

He smiled encouragingly, "Isn't that wonderful?" Pip leaned back against the mound of cushions and held back the urge to give the other a hug.

Damien sat down next to him and placed an arm across his shoulders. He leaned back and slouched in a very un-presidential like way.

They didn't speak as they relaxed their muscles.

Damien played with Pip's hair.

Pip twiddled his thumbs and tried not to look at him.

It was as if they were children again.

The thought made Pip sad.

So, he simply sighed and rubbed the sore spot under his bandages.

Damien looked at him in a way that told Pip exactly what he was thinking.

"You'll find out what happened if you reopen India." He would rather have Damien find out that way. Maybe delay the man's reaction to his reckless action, "There are people who want to go home. They seem nice. Some of them are a bit too curious, though."

"These people bring you here?"

He nodded with a "yes."

They leaned closer and stewed further in quiet.

Pip took the time to look over the room.

It was large with grand windows face to the north. The walls were pure, clean marble and the pillars were decorated with classic column engravings along with gold paper pressed around the details. Beautiful rugs lay and hung all over the temple, even one more different and exquisite than the last. Off to the east was a small waterfall that sprouted from the wall and flowed down into a half-circle fountain at the floor. As well, their wall was covered in mounds of pillows; both stacking up to the ceiling and organized along the floor.

The room felt fit for the finest.

Damien certainly fit that category.

The Anti-Christ pulled out a cigarette from his pants pocket and lit it via self-combustion. It was his favorite method of lighting. He took a deep drag and filled the room with smoke. The burning smell of smoke overcame the incense.

"Smoking turns your lungs black," he muttered, swatting away the smoke.

"Cool,"

"Says the man who is immortal. While the man with a very low life expectancy sits and inhales large amounts of second-hand smoke."

Damien grinned, "All the cool kids are doing it."

"If the cool kids were jumping off a bridge, would you do it?" Pip asked sarcastically.

"Yup. You?"

He sighed and rested his elbows against his knees, "Yeah, most likely."

He chuckled and pulled his arms away from the Englishman.

Everything about the current situation felt so odd and kind of wrong. He was practically out of his mind with joy with their reunion but he couldn't help but wonder why there wasn't that usual feeling of desertion.

But Pip wouldn't bring up anything about lonesomeness. He would keep his mouth shut and be happy.

"You've toughened up. Good for you,"

Pip looked at him, "You haven't changed much."

"You love me just the way I am." He said with a bright grin.

He chuckled, "Sure."

Damien glanced at him before he looked over at the east wall; away from him.


	15. Horrible, Horrible Filler

Part II: **Riot!**  
Chapter IV: Horrible, Horrible Filler  


* * *

In the course of a month, Pip felt as if the Earth's rotation had increased. Each day slid by so quickly for him, it was almost numbing.

Damien kept his older man appearance and only changed when he was sure that only he and Pip were alone. Most of the time, this period of different appearance left Pip in a look of confusion.

Nevertheless, he dealt with it at a decent tempo. Normal days flew by while he was in a comfortable haze in which he never could truly remember.

'The Temple' was still as beautiful as it was the first day he saw it: full of wonderful artisan detail and abnormal cleanliness that made the halls sparkle in even dim light.

Truly he had felt as if his days had taken a one-eighty.

Until the day he finally remembered his initial mission.

The thought had slipped his mind so easily, Pip wasn't sure if it was very important to him anymore.

He found his crazed fixation with stopping Cartman was now overshadowed with his fixation was doing things with Damien.

Pip didn't understand how that could have possibly happened.

* * *

It had never occurred to him, but he soon found out that the people of India were wondering what sort of relationship their leader and this foreigner had.

In enclosed places, rumors like this have a tendency to spread like wildfire. What would the media write about without any outside sources?

The groups of rumors for this subject of relation were split into three groups. The first group thought that Pip was an old follower from Damien's nomad years. The second group assumed that they were friends. How each other became friends was still a widely independent choice. The third group believed that the relationship was much deeper than friendship.

This wasn't true, of course.

Pip didn't really feel that way about his friend, and he was sure Damien didn't feel that way either.

But… He could always find out by his reaction to these rumors…

Well, it was a golden opportunity, even if he would never actually take it.

* * *

Pip stood in front o the sacred tree (well, where he could legally stand) and looked around at the people who were still camping out in front of the building.

Damien told him it was because they, the people, wanted to support him, even though he was all-knowing now.

Some people sat and meditated, others chatted and ate casually, while others danced to home-made music.

The liveliness of them breathed even more life into him. They put even more happiness and a bit of trust into him.

It was as if he were rejuvenated. Like he was a new man. Like his settings were reset.

* * *

"How was your day?" He asked in a very housewife manner. It would have been somewhat believable if it weren't for the fact that he hasn't shaved in who knows how long.

"Lazy," Damien replied as he satanically changed his appearance back to his 'normal' self

"Did you do anything?"

"Nope. Not much to do when you don't have to deal with foreign affairs."

"Good point,"

The darker-haired one threw himself into his chair and pulled his feet onto his desk.

Pip lounged back on the loveseat (not like he was expecting Damien to join him or anything) and thumbed through one of the local newspaper, searching for anything that he could recognize.

Nothing.

He folded it back and placed it on the side table. He looked up and over at the Anti-Christ.

He as stifling back laughter, snorting a bit, and grinning like mad.

"What?" He asked critically with a keen eye on him.

Damien stopped, gasped, and waved his face a little. "Sorry, sorry, but you look so stupid with facial hair."

"Facial hair?" He traced his jaw absently and was taken aback by the amount he had. He could feel it curl under his finger tips.

"It doesn't suit you,"

His shoulders slumped and he stared at him, "Like you look any better."

"Hey! Once this baby grows long enough, I'm going to trim it into a sweet goatee!"

He couldn't imagine a goatee on Damien, even if it did fit the whole satanic stereotype. "Good luck with that," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured back with a sly grin.

"You're welcome." Pip mimicked.

Damien heaved a sigh and spun a little.

"Go shave," he ordered while he smiled sweetly.

Pip rolled his eyes again and stood up, "Yes, your majesty."

* * *

He peeled back his bandages and tossed them away. He inspected the clean scab for a moment before he nodded to himself absently and pulled the razor from the cabinet.

"Pip!"

He jumped, dropped the shaving cream, and spun around quickly. He dashed into the side lounge, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Smile!"

Pip was shocked when a flash was set off. Dots jumped into his eyes and he stepped back slowly.

"Wh-What?" He asked, dazed.

"Just getting payback is all,"

His vision cleared and he saw that Damien was smiling and a camera was in his hand, "Payback for what?" He still felt dazed.

"For trying to take mine so many years ago. Oh, and I thought I ought to get your hairy picture before you shaved." He laughed ruefully and snapped some more.

"Damien! Stop!" He gasped and quickly retreated back into the bathroom. Pip picked up the can and applied the shaving cream.

Another flash came.

"Stop that!"

Damien laughed deeply and retreated.

"Damien!"

* * *

He rocked back on his heels and listened quietly.

Pip held his head in his hands and listened quietly as well.

"We'll open the Internet tomorrow." Damien instructed as he stood stock still.

Pip was still unused by his disguise.

"Yes, sir," the men in suits replied and turned to leave.

The Brit held his tongue as he listened to them walk away.

Damien shifted and sat down next to him.

Pip picked up his head.

"Do you mind telling me what happened?" He asked, dark eyes squared on him.

He started into those eyes and felt dread build up in the back of his stomach. "Just as I told you before: you'll find out once you open India."

"Pip, since when were you so stubborn?" The humor seemed dry. Tired.

He lowered his head again and tried to push the thought of the group away. He wondered if they were okay. He wondered if Cartman decided to keep them alive. He wondered if he should have stayed and helped.

"Pip, what happened?"

He kept to himself, drawing further and further into his self-inquiries, absorbed by them.

"Tell me," demanded Damien.

He slowly lifted his head and looked at him. He slowly confessed what had happened. Everything. From the cabin, to the airplane, to India; he told it all.

Damien stood up and rolled back on his heels.

"Pip,"

He looked at him.

"Pip," he said, "Didn't I tell you not to do anything reckless?"

His collar was gripped harshly and Pip was wrenched off of the loveseat. He collided into Damien solidly and stared at him squarely.

"I told you." His grip increased.

Pip's eyes never left Damien's when he replied solemnly, "Sometimes promises need to be broken,"


	16. The Return of Dreams and French Calling

Arc II:** Riot!**  
Chapter V: The Return of Dreams and French Calling  


* * *

It was when the first rain of the rainy season happened, the whole media was booming with all the news that was now flooding in.

One of the biggest stories that rushed all around was the attempted assassination of the president of Germany, Eric Cartman.

Pip's face was filtered through as a wanted criminal.

He was, apparently, very dangerous and killed three people at the rally.

"What a load of bull shit!" Damien screamed as he ripped apart the newspaper.

Pip stood up quickly and looked at him oddly, "What is it now?"

"That—" he trembled with anger, "That bitch!"

The blonde was by his side in an instant. "Who?" He glanced down at the shredded paper.

"Sally,"

Pip's stomach went sour.

"'Thanks to the help of agents Sally and Jeremy Rialto, President Cartman set a trap for the terrorist group The Resistance. The criminals Wendy Testaburger, Ike Broflovski, Stan Marsh, Kenny McCorrmick, and Clyde Donovan were caught and are now under heavy guard.'" Damien recited from memory. His eyes burned. "'The other terrorists: Philip Pirrip, Kyle Broflovski, Leopold Scotch, Token Black, and Bebe Stevens are still on the loose.'"

Pip lowered his gaze.

"So that's what you've been moping about." His voice was harsh and devoid of the joking that the words suggested.

He retreated back to his seat and sat down quietly. He held his head in his hands.

"It's my entire fault."

"Pip,"

"It's my entire fault. If I had never believed Sally— If I even did some research on her—None of this would have happened."

"Stop talking like that!"

Pip lowered his head further and mumbled, "All my fault," to his legs.

"Stop!" Damien held his shoulders and shook him roughly.

He was crying. He hadn't cried in years.

"It's not your fault!"

* * *

"You bastard! I'm going to kill you!" He screams as he arises from the soggy earth.

Cartman appears as calm as he did before. Even though his pants are scorched and his coat is discarded on the ground, he himself doesn't seem affected by the flames that once consumed his body.

"Why would you do that?" He asks.

Damien throws a fist at him and Eric is on the ground in an instant. The Anti-Christ stands above the other and the rage within him becomes palpable through fire in his eyes.

The fire around them grows in increasing time until the flames reach over twenty feet in the air. Things in streets some eighty miles away explode and the air thickens to a fog.

His is shaking as he sends another fist into the man's face.

"You killed him!" He screams, "You killed him!"

Cartman struggles with his discarded coat and pulls out a handgun from its inner pocket. "And how is this bad for you?"

Damien still shakes as he lifts himself off of Cartman slowly. "You've sent him to another life of torture! You son-of-a-bitch! I'll have to spend a long time trying to pay off his sins so that he can be a normal resident!"

He smiles gleefully, "That's better than I expected!" He says with a twinkle in his eyes.

Shots ring as Cartman pulls the trigger multiple times, firing four strong bullets straight through Damien's chest. Three hit his heart.

His strikes forward in a last ditch effort and dug his hand into him. Damien curses as he misses the major organs.

He dies shortly after.

* * *

Pip nearly jumped out of his skin.

He toppled out of his bed and gripped the floor stressfully. His breath was sharp and caused his chest to ache from the labor.

His tongue hurt.

Damien lazily peered over the edge of the bed and down on him, "What'ja dream?"

He wondered why Damien was in his bed but ignored that as he told his story.

The black-haired Anti-Christ stared at him.

Pip licked the roof of his mouth and tried to ebb the sting.

"Are your dreams true?" He asked with a look of intensity plastered all over his body language.

"I don't know," Pip replied truthfully. "If they are, they haven't happened yet."

"Yes, but you said one of your dreams was about our reunion. But that obviously wrong, right?" He appeared to be desperate.

"Well, yes, that's true."

"Thank god,"

The blonde stared at him, "Why are you in my bed?"

Damien glanced at him, "No reason,"

He gave him a suspicious look.

"I should be asking you that, though. It is, technically, my bed, Philip."

Pip laughed to himself and threw a raspberry. "Sure thing."

"Go back to sleep, Frenchie."

"I'm not French!"

* * *

"You want me to do what?" He yelled as he stared at him via the mirror.

Damien held up a bottle and plastic gloves. "You need to dye your hair so we can leave without everyone trying to arrest you."

Pip sat on the toilet and unhappily found himself agreeing with him. But… He loved his hair, especially when it was blonde.

"You're right," he confessed, "I wish you weren't, but you are."

Damien grinned, "Don't worry. Black is back, you know?"

* * *

"You look positively French."

Pip threw the French hat onto the ground, "It's horrible." He commented and quickly peeled off the black turtleneck shirt.

"Oh, c'mon Pip! You look cool in black! Plus, if you turn goth, you and me could totally connect!" Damien said lightly as he bounced over next to him.

Pip looked at him with a look of annoyance. "Do you have anything else to wear?"

"I have some purple stuff, if you like that more?" He grinned.

"No thank you,"

"Well, I do have some suits," he rolled his eyes, "But those are so last season."

"The suit would be nice, thank you," Pip pulled off his pants and tossed both gothic items off to the side. "As well, why are you acting so queen lately?"

Damien frowned and his eyebrows stitched together deeply, "Not funny,"

"I think it's pretty funny," Pip said with a smile.

"Oh, I'm sure," Damien replied coyly.

His face reddened, "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," he glanced away.

"Damien?"

"What?"

"I'm not like that!" His eyes were wide.

He still didn't look at him, "Never said you were!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Damien! Wait, where are you going?

"…"

"Can you bring me some clothes, please?"

"… Maybe, but you look nice half naked."

He blushed deeper.

"Hurry up Pip. We need to leave soon."

"B-But my clothes!"


	17. Has It Really Begun?

Part II: **Riot!**  
Chapter VI: Has It Really Begun?  


* * *

Pieces of hair fell onto the floor, chopped into short strips.

He was shaking slightly but kept an overall calm demeanor.

"Sorry Pip," Damien said as he placed the scissors on the counter, "It needed to be done."

"I know," he replied sullenly and slid his hands cover his scalp. He was unaccustomed to the shortness.

"You look weird." Damien commented as he looked at their reflections.

"I do," he replied as he pushed aside his newfound bangs.

"It doesn't suit you,"

"I know,"

"Sorry,"

"Right-o," he knelt down and picked up his discarded hair and threw the locks away. His blue eyes were down cast.

"Pip," Damien hesitated as he sat down on the bathtub, "Pip,"

"Yes?" He asked looking over at him.

"What happened to you, after I left?"

The hit was below the belt and it caused Pip to ache harshly. He held his head and sat down next to him. He turned his eyes to the facet and kept them glued to it.

"Cartman shot me,"

Damien stared at him.

Pip could feel the anger bubble up in Damien. He wondered if he should continue.

"In the foot," he did, "I went to the hospital and told them it was a hunting accident.

"After that incident, two things sort of happened… I suppose. I became more of a tool towards Cartman and the popular kids as well as having developed a deathly fear for guns."

The Anti-Christ looked away from him. "How long did it take you to overcome your fear?"

"Eight years,"

He hung an arm around his shoulder but continued to keep his eyes adverted. "When did you finally stand up for yourself?"

"Three years ago,"

"Tell me—about it."

Pip glanced at him and felt his arms tense.

Damien's hand was hot as fire.

"Not much to say." He mouth was dry, "It was at a speech he was making." His eyes were on Damien in anticipation, "I was in the audience with a gun."

Damien still wasn't looking.

"That was the first time I tried to murder him."

"How many other times did you try?"

"Five others."

"Lucky,"

"Yeah," he closed his eyes and leaned against him heavily.

Damien's hand dropped down to his hip. The position was awkward but neither one of them made an attempt to move.

"He's going to invade tomorrow."

Pip looked at him, "What does that mean for you?"

"The prevention of my reign,"

* * *

Cameras flashed and Pip was bombarded with questions in a language he couldn't understand.

_"Please move aside_," Damien said as he gently carded through the people.

They slowly made their way through the airport and made it to the correct gate. They entered the private plane and were greeted by much needed silence.

Pip fell asleep almost instantly while Damien kept up by reading through newspapers and gossip magazines.

* * *

**"The time is here."**

* * *

His body tensed as he quickly ran out of the landed plane.

The sky darkened and the sun dimmed. The clouds built bigger and bigger, becoming gloomier with the second. The sky flashed deep red.

It felt like déjà vu to Pip.

Damien by his side in an instant and he cursed loudly.

Pip gripped his hand and stared at him, "We need to hurry." He told him with a look of pure determination.

They hurried.

* * *

The city of Jerusalem was on fire. The dead littered the streets. Nothing in sight seemed to be alive.

The two cautiously walked through the holy land.

"It was a bomb," Damien told him as they trekked on.

Pip bit back a snarl and replied in a quivering voice, "Horrible,"

"Yeah," he murmured back.

"Heh!"

They both turned.

Cartman smiled at them. He opened his arms wide and finally released the laugh that was held in his chest. "It's all mine!"

Pip felt that he was becoming light-headed but shook away the feeling. He glared at him and quickly pulled the handgun out of the hip holster he had it in.

Damien quickly jumped in front of Pip and held him back.

Cartman walked over mounds of people, both dead and alive, as if her were taking a stroll in the park. His hands were in his pockets and his was tie was undone.

"Move Damien," Pip yelled and attempted to sidestep him.

Damien held him back, "Let me do this, Pip!"

"No!" His eyes were wide with anger and he pushed Damien aside. He dashed forward, arms stretched out; gun clenched, and pulled back the hammer.

"Pip!" Damien yelled as he jumped to his feet.

"So foolish, Pip," Cartman cooed and pulled out his own weapon.

Pip pulled the trigger.

Cartman pulled the trigger.

He dropped to the ground and tumbled. He shook his head and lifted the gun again. He took aim and shot again.

Damien stomped over to the former blonde and wrenched the hot gun out of his hands. He struck him across the face with the butt of the gun and bared his teeth.

Pip stared at him with shock.

Cartman held his side and shot several more bullets.

Damien stepped in front of Pip and took two shots in the thigh. He didn't even flinch.

Pip held his bleeding shoulder and cursed himself.

"I will prevail,"

He wasn't sure which one of the two had said it. He guessed Damien.

Fire shot from the sky and the fire on the ground intensified.

Damien shook angrily and raised his arms to the sky. His eyes gleamed bright red as the fire in them grew and a giant fissure ripped open next to the three men.

Demons screamed as they escaped from their prison for the first time and more fire burst upon the earth.

He stepped forward, fire enveloped around him, and readied for the kill.

Cartman shot more bullets in a frenzy but still didn't lose the cold in his eyes.

"You're faking," Damien announced daringly.

Cartman's expression hardened, "You're dead."

"I'll come back,"

"You're dead." He repeated.

"I'll come back," Damien cloned. The fire on him finally dimmed down to nothing.

They stood face-to-face. Both Anti-Christs stared at each other with heated glares.

Cartman seemed calculating. He grinned, "I win,"

Damien scowled, "Yeah?"

"Yes," he held up his gun and fire into the sky three times.

He stepped back and looked around.

Troops stepped out from behind broken barriers and pointed their guns at them.

Reinforcements.

"Fire,"

He turned—

Everything happened in a hot, liquid breath. All sounds mixed into white noise and the pain came much too suddenly.

He collapsed onto his knees. He gripped the ground and felt his chest burn. The sensation of his heart being torn was one of the worst and most odd things he had ever experienced. Painful, thickening, and erratic.

He swallowed blood but could feel it escape through his nose. He tried to swallow the increasing flow but felt himself choke on it.

"Pip!" Damien screamed. He faced him faced towards his direction longingly before he painfully turned around to face Cartman.

"Bastard!" He screamed, eyes misting, and lunged forward.

Pip's eyes snapped open and fluttered closed as he fought for life. His breath was wet and red.

Damien struck his hand through Cartman's chest until he could feel open air against his wet palm. "I will make sure you suffer the rest of your afterlife," He vowed, breathing heavily.

Damien yanked out his hand and quickly ran towards his fallen friend. Bullets struck him, but he didn't stop.

The reinforcements burst into flames as they shot at him.

"I win," Cartman said, smiling ruefully.

Damien glanced at him, "I know," He knelt down and placed a hand on Pip's shoulder.

"Pip?"

He was too tired.

"Pip, open your eyes!"

He complied painfully.

"Please hold on,"

"Right—o,"

* * *


	18. Fuck Miracles!

Arc II: **Riot!**  
Chapter VII: Fuck Miracles!  


* * *

The earth was shaking, tall spires of rock erupted from the ground, lava bubbled up from crevices, and everything in the sky stopped moving.

The heat that radiated from the fissure down to hell was enough to make Pip feel even worse. Sweat poured out of his pours.

"Hang on, Pip," Damien told him as he held him to his side.

"Al—right," he replied quietly. The free blood in his mouth started to dry from the heat.

He glanced at him with worry before he quickly stepped over the crevice and fell.

They narrowly missed jagged rocks and bursts of hell fire. Creatures, dark and evil, flew past them and made it to the above world to serve the beast.

And then, suddenly, they were both on solid ground.

Pip leaned further against Damien and felt regret as he noticed the blood stains on Damien's shirt and on the suit he was wearing. He couldn't bring himself to speak.

Damien quickly lifted Pip up fully and made his way through the first layer of hell.

"Damien!"

His head shot over to the left.

Malcolm ran to him from his stage, "Who's that?" He yelled from his distance, not understanding the situation.

"Where's my dad?" He yelled in frustration and gripped onto Pip defensively. He was quivering.

"He'll be here in three hours— hey, are you two bleeding?"

Damien quickly hurried away.

"Wait! Who is that guy?" Malcolm cried as he followed after them.

"I'm Phillip," he murmured quietly, "You may call me Pip… If-if you like."

"Don't talk Pip," Damien cooed.

"You're him?" He asked with bewilderment.

He nodded gently.

"Damien, what are you doing here?"

"C'mere Satan!" Malcolm yelled hurriedly.

The Anti-Christ stopped and spun around.

Satan stepped over to them.

Damien gripped onto Pip defensively and pressed his lips to his hair. His sensitive hands could feel the blood within the former blonde slug along, "Please just keep awake."

"Mmhmm," he gurgled.

"Philip!" Satan gasped as he dashed forward.

He winced and coughed up more blood to prevent choking. His vision blurred and he felt himself drift into a painful haze.

How was he still alive?

"Damien," he licked his lips pearly red.

He was shocked to feel Pip slowly grow limp. His hands dripped tighter, probably enough to bruise, and watched as he hung deadly in his arms. "Pip!" He screamed.

Fire burst in his arms and engulfed the man. The fire raged until the remains were reduced to ash.

He shook as the ashes crumbled away onto the ground.

"Damien,"

His fingers were dark red with dried blood and he stared at them in shock. He jolted into consciousness and ran off towards 'Malcolm's Stage'.

"Damien, wait!" The other black-haired man cried as he ran after him.

* * *

"I'm going to kill you!" Pip screamed as he strangled Eric.

He gagged; fingers gripped around his hands, and tried to break away.

He felt himself prevail and shook him back and forth until he heard a satisfying snap. He grinned angrily.

He went limp.

Cartman's eyes filled with life again. His hands gripped around Pip's throat and he applied pressure as well.

They both struggled to chock each other.

"Pip!" Damien yelled.

Malcolm climbed back onto his stage.

Satan followed.

He dropped the limp body of the Neo-Nazi and quickly pushed through the crowd and to the stage.

Damien embraced him and planted his lips on the blonde's forehead. "I so sorry Pip," he muttered.

Pip hugged him harder.

"It's okay."

They kissed gently, only doing so by the strange flurry of emotion that both were flooding with.

Malcolm cleaned his nails, glancing off at Satan.

The Devil clasped his hands together and looked at them sweetly.

"Let's go back to earth," Damien murmured.

"Is that possible for me?"

"Yeah," he told him, "If you stick with me,"

Pip smiled, "Right-o,"

* * *

A large stone throne erected from the ground with a deafening rumble.

Damien climbed up the steps and took his rightful place in the barren holy land.

Pip sat to him, glancing around apprehensively.

Demons rushed all around the world, placing the mark of the beast onto all of those who followed the new ruler of the world.

The sky was still bleeding and the ground was still raging, but Pip couldn't help but feel bubbles of happiness build in him. He was happy to be with Damien once again and in a matter that would not involve warfare of sorts.

He was also happy to see that his hair (even though it was the same length it was before) it was not back to its original blonde.

But, as happy as Pip was, he couldn't help but notice how cautious Damien was.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he looked out at the barren land.

"Nothing Pip," he replied, gazing out at the frozen land, "Nothing at all,"

* * *

A month passed and things were going well for hell. Damien's reign was becoming more and more official with each day passed. His demon army fought back retaliation from the other countries (mainly America and the main European powers) as well as the large religious armies that were forming. Soon, his control was airtight.

Pip could sense that Damien was withholding information. He felt as if he wasn't being trusted, despite the fact that they had formed a semi-relationship, and the feeling of not being trusted was one of the worst he could ever experience.

But two months later, he finally understood why.

At first, it wasn't too noticeable, but, after a few days, it became more and more obvious.

They sky was becoming bluer.

"What does this mean, Damien?" He asked as he glanced at him.

"Don't worry Pip, it's nothing important." He said.

He wasn't sure if it were the truth or not.

"Right-o," he replied, turning his head to the sea of worshipers in front of him. Each one, he always took notice, had the three sixes marked on them somewhere; just like he had seen in his dream so many years ago.

It was daunting to think of his visions, now that everything worked out in favor for Damien. What were the things he saw then? Were they simply fake or where they the things that could have happened but did not?

These questions led him to nothing and left him unhappy.

They sky flashed and orange spots grew in his eyes.

He glanced at Damien with confusion, trying to spy any emotion at all that would explain what was going on.

The Anti-Christ did nothing. It would have seemed as if he were unconcerned, if it weren't for the tightening of his muscles.

He placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with concern. "Damien, what is going on?"

They sky flashed blue again.

More dots filled his line of vision.

"Nothing,"

"There's something! I'm not stupid! Tell me what's going on, please?" His cheeks were dark.

There was yet another flash and a beam of light drifted onto Damien's throne.

He tensed further.

Pip glanced up and winced at the intensity of the light. He shadowed his eyes with his hand and looked back at the beast.

"That certainly was fast," he commented stiffly. He seemed to have been waiting for something.

Pip as at a loss.

The light solidified into another man. A man with dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and with quite a lot of orange on appeared in front of them.

"Oh geez," he complained.

"Kenneth?" Pip asked, eyes wide, and stood up.

"Hey Pip," he grinned, "Hey Damien!"

"Hi Kenny," Damien murmured as he too stood up.

"I'm here to… You know,"

"Yeah,"

"Good, 'cause I can't remember what God told me to say,"

Damien grinned.

He stuck his hands into his pockets, "Do you want to just give up or do we really need to fight?"

"I would rather fight,"

"Always," Kenny sighed.

"What's going on?" Pip yelled.

The followers down below looked up sat the spectacle and at the very fight against good and evil.

"What's going on?" He asked again, more insisting this time.

Both men ignored him.

Pip clenched his fists angrily and stepped between them. "Tell me," he said to the black-haired one.

Kenny looked at him, "He doesn't know?"

"Know what?"

"No need for him to know," Damien responded and placed his hands on Pip's hips. He lifted him with ease and moved him to the side again.

"Wow, sucks to be you," Kenny said to Pip.

"Please, Damien, Kenneth, tell me!"

"Nope," he placed a quick kiss on his hand before he stepped closer to Kenny, "Can't have you dying for a second time, now can we?"

Kenny frowned and furrowed his brows, "Very funny,"

"I thought so," Damien smiled.


	19. JTM? WKOPAY?

Arc II:** Riot!**  
Chapter VIII: Just Two Months? What Kind Of Pansy Are You?  


* * *

Pip frowned, heavy lines forming on his forehead. He propelled himself forward and placed his hands on Damien's shoulders.

He didn't move.

Pip squeezed his shoulders.

He still didn't move.

He bared his teeth and could feel Kenny's eyes on him. He yanked with his might and pulled Damien into his throne.

The man stood up quickly and stalked over to him.

They stood face-to-face, eyes linked in determined stares, and tensed.

"Tell me," Pip broke in.

"If I do, you'll be really pissed,"

"Tell me,"

Kenny stood to the side and looked at his nails lazily. He yawned mutely and pretended to check the time.

"No," he bit back an action, not wanting to hurt him.

Pip stopped and backed up slowly. He stared at him for a prolonged time before he stepped over and sat down on the throne. He kept his eyes on the two and waited, no longer wanting to argue with Damien.

Damien combed and hand through his hair and turned back to Kenny, "Sorry about that,"

"No problem," he smiled and dug into his pocket, looking for something.

He rocked back onto his heels and waited quietly.

Pip looked at the confused bystanders and felt as if he belonged down with them, the numbers printed on his forehead.

What could possibly be happening that Damien thought would anger him?

He was left in the dark.

Kenny had moved to his back pocket now and found what he was searching for. He grin became large and strained.

The Anti-Christ gently gave him an odd look and stepped back slightly.

The blonde pulled out the object and presented it to Damien.

Damien could smell it, all over the crucifix in Kenny's hand. It was strong and tangy, a bitter sort of blood smell. Holy Blood. "You're such a cheater."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you have to cheat."

"I'm sure," he retorted.

"Well, you did!"

He silenced.

Everything ended so instantly.

In fact, it happened so quickly, Pip was unable to actually see what had happened.

He jumped to his feet and stared at the scorch mark where Damien once stood. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to Kenny.

He knelt down and picked up the fallen cross and pushed it back into his back pocket. He slowly stepped away from the other, shell-shocked blonde and lifted his head.

"_Good job, my child_." The voice was heavenly.

Pip didn't stop staring, even as another beam of light spotlighted the throne. He didn't even stop when Jesus materialized next to him. He didn't stop even when Jesus placed a hand on his shoulder.

He understood now what was going on. Jesus would return (he had retreated back to heaven when a group of Neo-Romans moved through South Park and, well, history repeated itself quite a bit) once the Anti-Christ fell.

His heartbeat finally caught up to him. Heartbeats pounded in his ears and caused his body to heat slightly. He looked from the spot, to Kenny, to Jesus before he opened his mouth to speak.

Nothing was said. His skin burned. Where was Damien? How could be get back to Damien?

He paused further… Wasn't he dead?

"Philip, my child,"

His heart sped faster.

"You must go back to Hell and repent for your sins."

His skin dulled and his heart felt like it was on fire. His fingers turned ashy and slowly blew off with the wind. He was dying again.

The sensation of being blown away by the wind was mind numbingly hot. His body burned from the inside to the out and his skin slowly turned to ash. He looked at them with large, dulling blue eyes. Panic was filling him.

He was being blown away.

"Good luck, Philip,"

"See you later, Pip," Kenny smiled weakly.

"Cheerio," he replied numbly.

* * *

He looked around quietly at the group of confused faces that surrounded him. He looked ahead and caught sight of the black-haired man from before.

Pip slowly pushed through the crowd and smiled weakly at the man sitting on the stage next to Malcolm.

"Pip! You're back!" He expelled happily and jumped towards him. A large cross-shaped burn was stuck on his forehead.

Pip ignored it and embraced him cheerfully.

He exhaled happily, "Good, I was worried about you. It was taking so long for you to get back; I thought you may have been purified by Jesus or something."

Pip stared at him. "You mean I had a chance to go to heaven, if Jesus thought I was worthy?" He felt numb again.

His smile faded, "Yeah,"

He looked around and then down at the ground, "Why wasn't I worthy?"

"Well, think of the things you've done. Have you been sin free?"

This stumped him. Perhaps his life wasn't as good as he had assumed? In fact, now as he thought, trying to kill someone (good or evil) was a sin. His life was dedicated to the downfall of Eric Cartman. His whole life was a sin.

"How do I repent?"

Damien was quiet, eyes lifted to the side him thought, before he answered dryly, "You can't."

Pip smiled weakly, "At least you told me the truth."

He smiled as well, "Don't worry Pip, Heaven is filled with Mormons anyway. A total dragsville up there."

The fire in his eyes was dim.

* * *

Malcolm walked down the aisle of people with a large clipboard in his hands. "Next?" He called.

"Jerry Springer,"

He glanced at him before he smiled vibrantly, "Hey man! Oh, anyway, Jerry, you've committed the sins, as follows: wrath for twenty years, greed for sixteen years, lust for four years, and gluttony for one year. As well as following the wrong religion." He told him, "We'll see you in level five tomorrow at eight."

He moved down the row and called for who was next.

"Philip Pirrip," he said.

"Hey Pip. You've committed the following sins: wrath for twelve years, lust for two months…" He glanced at him with a perplexed look. "Dude, why so short?" He started to leaf through his papers, "I wonder who?" He asked himself.

Pip's eyes hardened and he stepped forward. He placed his hand on top of the clipboard and squished down the papers. "That's private information and I prefer it to stay as such,"

"You're no fun," Malcolm whined.

"Never claimed I was, now did I?" He smiled.

He smiled back, "Great point. Anyway, as well, you've done the sin of following the wrong religion." He moved over to the next person. "Pip, meet down in level five tomorrow."

"Right-o,"

* * *

He rolled over and smacked his mouth dryly.

It didn't matter if he were in hell or not. He would have come anyway. Perhaps his punishment wouldn't be as horrible as the lore on earth made it out to be? Maybe it was worse?

It just didn't matter.

Pip gently curled back up next to Damien's side and rested his head on the pillow.

Maybe being an acquaintance of Damien would make his punishment more lenient?

But, like he had previously thought, it didn't much matter now. There was nothing for him to do now and thinking about his past mistakes was not helping what was happening now.

He had to stop thinking about that.

His heartbeat was fast; it wasn't because of his worry nor was it the heat. Maybe it was the fact that he was snuggled up against a man he had a crush on?

Maybe.

It slowed over the course of a half-an-hour until he was sound asleep once again.

Damien's eyes opened, not a sign of sleep on them, and he shifted. He slowly combed one of his free hands through the blonde's hair, staring down at him silently.

"Good night,"

Pip moved slightly, causing Damien to pause curiously.

He placed the other hand over Pip's and squeezed them gently. He continued to run his fingers through the other's hair.

Damien didn't know why Pip had asked to sleep with him. He had naturally assumed it was because of the fear he felt about tomorrow. After all, he was going to have to spend a good lifetime down in the lower layers of hell being tortured in order to pay off his sins. He must have been scared.

But he felt as if maybe Pip was with him that night for reasons other than the need for comfort. After all, Pip was a strong man now. He didn't need to be protected like he did years ago.

Or, this could have just been some obscure idea that his love-sick mind had made up to make him feel better. He did, in fact, like him.

Which was pretty strange for him to do, seeing as how they both acted somewhat couple-ish; especially just recently.

He was over thinking this. He needed to stop.

Pip's eyes opened gently and he looked up at him, "Hello,"

"Hey,"

"Why are you holding my hand?"

"No reason. Why? Want me to stop?"

"No, that's okay." His voice was soft. He gently pressed the side of his face against Damien's chest. "I like it this way." He murmured as he fell back asleep.

Damien sighed and closed his eyes to sleep.

It was the best rest he had experienced in years.


	20. SSM, ITIGAC

Chapter IX: Such Sweet Moments, I Think I'm Getting a Cavity  


* * *

He smiled and looked at him without a worry.

Damien furrowed his eyebrows and looked back with confusion, "Why're you so happy?"

"I'm not really happy," Pip replied, "I'm just glad you're here to see me off,"

"Oh, some for me," he kissed him quickly before he looked up at the level five stage.

Hazel, the fifth floor coordinator, stood quietly on the stage and played with her skirt. She looked at the people and squeezed her eyes in search.

Damien wondered why his dad wasn't there by now. After all, eight A.M. was the time he came to talk to the newbies for level five.

He held the sides of the other's head and turned it so they made eye contact. "What's troubling you?" He was concerned.

"Nothing I should really worry about. I'm just worried about my dad. I wonder why he late." He grinned weakly, "But it's nothing to worry about,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." His smiled grew, "It's nice to see that you haven't changed completely, though."

"You've changed a little too, you know," he murmured, gripping Damien's hands and kissing him.

Damien pecked several more times.

He wondered why they were suddenly so hands-y.

The girl on the stage cleared her throat and looked around nervously. She was new, he could tell by her age. "Excuse me, everyone." She amplified perfectly, "It seems as if Lard Satan can't be here. So, if you could just quiet down, I'll tell you where to go,"

The Anti-Christ peered up at her and then back at Pip.

He was obviously worried.

"Go on, go find your dad."

"I'm sorry Pip," he said disconnectedly, "I feel like if I leave, I'll be abandoning you,"

"It's okay! I'm peachy here!" He grinned brightly to reassure him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes,"

"O-Okay, I'll see you later!" He ran off.

He waved, "I hope!"

Hazel flipped through the papers on her clipboard, "Philip Pirrup, of you'd please come up on stage!"

He looked at her and her giant bush of brown hair and quickly made his way through the crowd.

"Philip 'Pip' Pirrup, please come to the stage,"

He made it to the front and climbed onto the stage, "Yes?"

She smiled, "Lord Satan wanted me to inform you this: since you aided him while on earth, he has made it so that every sin you've committed while helping him shall be forgiven. The only thing you must repent for now is the two months of lust in layer two." She told him, "Meet in level two tomorrow at five in the morning," She motioned for him to leave.

He slowly stepped off the stage, still in shock. He carded through the crowd and stepped onto the elevator. He watched the twisted black metal of the doors close and listened to the ancient elevator groan as it pulled him up to level one. His couldn't bring himself to speak yet.

Pip stepped into Limbo and trekked towards the giant mansion that sat in the middle of the circle. He just hoped that Damien would be there.

* * *

The house was silent, which brought upon an eerie chill at the base of his spine. He looked around quietly and stepped through the living room.

Everything was perfectly in there place.

Certainly nothing bad had happened in this room.

… So why was it so bloody quiet?

Never, in the very small time that he had spent in the Devil's residence, had he heard the house be so silent. Usually, Satan was busy scuttling around the house in between orientations either cleaning or entertaining a possible boyfriend. He almost always heard the maids busy at work.

But he heard and saw nothing.

Pip slowly moved further into the home, glancing into the many rooms that he crossed until he had reached Damien's.

He smiled faintly at the old posters and stickers on the door that Damien put up when he was a teen. He had informed him that himself. He almost right out laughed when he saw the numerous 'Do Not Enter' tags that were squeezed around the door handle.

But the situation was much too strange, perhaps a little dire for mellow-dramatic sense, to be laughing about such an odd thing.

When he looked inside, he saw that the room was both dirty and uninhabited.

So he wasn't in his room. Where could they all have gone to?

He continued on, searching for Satan's room as a last ditch effort to learn something about this sudden disappearance.

Pip hesitantly opened the door to Satan's room, a feeling of something bad flooding his stomach, and looked in. He saw nothing, just a very neatly made bed and a wall filled with… Pictures of Saddam…

That was just weird.

He quickly closed the door, feeling as if he had just discovered something he should have never seen, and walked down the hall until he made it to a dead end. A small table with a flower sat there.

He sighed and turned around, heading back to the front door again.

The house was obviously empty.

He stepped outside and held his hand to his mouth in question, "Where could he be?" He murmured into his knuckle.

There was murmuring off to the side and Pip's curiosity was peaked.

He walked around to the side of the mansion (which too a minute due to its scale) and nearly jumped at what he found.

"There you are!" He exclaimed as he spotted Damien and Satan in the side garden.

"Pip?" Damien asked as he noticed him.

Satan grinned, "Good to see you, Philip!"

He stepped forward, "Thank you so much Satan,"

"For what?" The black-haired man asked as he glanced from Pip to his father.

"Oh!" He chuckled, "I forgot to tell you didn't I? Oh, silly me! I've forgiven all of the sins Pip has committed while he was helping me,"

Damien hugged the blonde, shocking him into a limp state, "That's great!" He shouted.

He hugged him back just as tightly, "You do know that I have to make up for some things, right Damien?"

His grip loosened, "For what?"

He blushed lightly, "Lust. Two months."

"Just two months?" He was shocked.

He nodded in embarrassment as he glanced at his chest. "Yeah,"

"Who?"

"Um, wh-what?"

"Who did you lust for?" He was looking at him with a goofy sort of face; like he was curious but not too serious about it.

"Uhm, a girl named Estella back when I was a boy… And, um," he hadn't stuttered like this in years. What had gotten into him? "You,"

He smiled vibrantly, "How cute." He kissed him.

His face was still bright red from mortification, not completely comfortable about speaking of this to him, let alone with Satan standing right there!

"Yes, well," Satan said casually, maybe even a little envious, "I'm off to work and such." He retreated quickly.

Pip pulled away and brushed his shirt, trying to draw attention away from him. "So, why was Satan late?"

Damien rolled his eyes and slung an arm on Pip's shoulder, "He was talking to Saddam. God, he's thinking about hooking up with him again. I swear he's just so dense sometimes. I wish he'd just stop trying." He confessed.

"He must really love him," as awkward as it was for him to think, Satan's sort of obsessive need to be with Saddam was sort of sweet.

"No, he's just stupid. Saddam doesn't like him. It's one-sided and every time Dad gets into a relationship with him, that bastard ends up hurting him pretty badly."

It didn't change the fact that Satan must have really loved him to still want to make a relationship even if he knew Saddam would ruin it. Pip found it admirable, "I would do the same if I were in his position."

"You like Saddam?" He yelled with his eyes wide.

"No! If I were Satan and you were Saddam!" He shouted back defensively.

"Oh!" He exhaled heavily, "Good." His smile faded as he considered what Pip had said. "Would you really do the same?"

"Yes, I would."

He kissed him, his hand clasped on the blonde's chin, "That's so sweet."


	21. Almost There!

Chapter X: Almost There!  


* * *

Level two was amazingly windy and Pip noticed that the punishment greatly resembled the one mentioned in Dante's Divine Comedy; which was quite a strange name for a very unfunny subject.

Damien gripped the blonde's hand and looked at him.

Pip glanced back before he turned his attention to the man on the stage. "Damien?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you go save Wendy, Stan, Ike, and Clyde?" His eyes glued to the ground, guilt eating through his body, "Could you rescue them, while I'm here?"

Damien scratched the side of his face, "That would be both easy and hard,"

Pip gave him a strange look. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, everyone who stayed faithful to god is still on earth. While the people who followed me sort of died and are now here in hell. But because of that, I'm not welcome on earth. Since everyone on earth follows god now, it may mean that they'd be a lot easier to free. Or, they might actually be out already." He said.

"Then please tell them I'm sorry for deserting them and being such a coward."

"Sure thing, Pip,"

"Thank you so much,"

They kissed.

The group shifted and the man motioned for the people to go forth and to their punishment. Demon's pushed the unwilling ones to move.

Pip hugged him tightly.

"I'll be okay, Pip,"

He didn't speak.

"But please; come back unchanged."

He looked up, "Right-o,"

* * *

Damien stepped onto earth and looked around.

The damage was almost fixed, it seemed, and everything appeared just like it had before.

He slid his hands into his pockets and shrank to his child form, looking just like how he did when he was eight. He slowly stepped through Israel, looking for a sign of Kenny or the others.

If he found Kenny, he'd know where the other people would be right away.

He gently stepped up to the rubble of his past throne and sighed. This certainly brought on nostalgia.

"Boy! What're you doing?"

Damien glanced over towards the older man and blinked, "Walking," he replied.

"Don't be so close to the devil's throne!" He warned with a sharp voice, "Evil still lingers over that spot!"

He squinted, "Evil?"

"Yes, boy. Wait 'til Jesus blesses that spot before stepping foot there."

Damien jumped with a revolutionary thought, "Old man, where is Jesus?"

He frowned at the nickname, "He should be at the new church,"

He dashed off and towards the large cathedral off on the horizon.

* * *

He cracked his skull against the rocks, eyes spinning, and he fell down onto the ground. He groaned heavily, the wind crushing against his back. He gently rolled onto his back and forced his eyes closed.

He hurt so much.

A demon yanked him to his feet and forced him to walk again.

Pip stumbled, legs weak, and collided with one of the other many people wondering around in the second circle of hell.

They both moaned in pain and wobbled away from one another.

The area was filled with screams, but the wind was so strong that it over powered them and drowned the screams with its own powerful wail.

Pip lurched back as much as he was capable of as the person in front of him was beheaded by a chunk of flying debris.

The man collapsed and crumbled into ashes and he went back to the stage.

He wished that he was out of this place and with Damien.

* * *

He glanced up at the towering cathedral and wondered what was aiding these people so that they were able to build and fix so quickly.

God's blessing, most likely.

Damien shook his head and stepped into the giant archway that held the door. He could sense something in the keystone. Not something to prevent access, simply something to bless the person underneath.

It made his stomach squirm.

Inside was like every other church he had ever seen; grand, beautiful, with hanging buttresses, and millions of candles.

Jesus stood by the pew.

He stepped down the center aisle and up to the savior.

Jesus noticed him instantly and told the elderly woman to go back to her seat. "What are you doing here?" He questioned with dimmed hostility.

Damien looked up at him and frowned heavily. "I need some help,"

His eyebrows furrowed, "In what, child of Satan?"

"I have a name, you know!" He was scowling.

"Yes, very sorry Damien," it was sour despite the pretty words.

"Do you know where Kenny is?"

He was surprised, "He should be in South Park by now,"

Damien blinked, "Are his friends free?"

"Yes, they are,"

"They're in South Park as well?"

"Yes,"

He exhaled heavily, "Thank you," he quickly turned a heel and bustled out of the church.

With another exhale of breath, he grew back into his thirty-year-old self and quick-walked back to the hell-elevator.

* * *

Pip was pushed back into the storm, old wounds still paining despite the fact that he no longer had them.

He couldn't deal. He had no idea how he was going to put up with this for another sixty days.

He would go mad if he had to deal with the next few hours.

* * *

Damien stepped into the old town and saw that nothing had changed. And, the further he walked through South Park, the more convinced he was that it was completely unaffected by his relatively quick reign.

Suddenly, a streak of blonde approached him.

"Hey! Damien!" Kenny called.

"Hi Kenny," he said as he waved weakly.

"What're you doing here?" He asked as he closed in, eyebrows quirked.

"Do you know where Kyle, Stan, and the others are?" He cut right to the chase.

"Everyone should be home or something. This whole fiasco has really warn them out, you know?"

"Sure do, thanks Ken,"

"No problem!"

He decided to go to Stan's place first (hopefully Wendy would be there too), then to Ike, and finally to Clyde.

* * *

Satan frowned and stood over Saddam.

The small man seemed to shrink under the heated gaze of the fallen angel, not yet daring to say anything yet.

"Saddam, I love you so much,"

He jumped to his feet and prepared to reply. He was cut off.

"But I cannot deal with you always betraying me. I'm banishing you to the ninth layer where you will be engulfed by ice up to your neck."

"B-But Satan! Don't do this to me, budduh! Please—!" He was dragged by some very able-bodied demons away from the angered ruler. "Satan, don't do it!" He screamed again in that high voice of his.

"Sorry Saddam, but no."

"No!" He yelled as the hole in the ground at him alive, throwing him down to the ninth layer.

* * *

He rang the doorbell and felt himself flood with stupidity. He, the son of Satan, was ringing a doorbell in order to apologize for someone else. He felt so utterly stupid, yet not at the same time. It was all very confusing.

Stan opened the door and stared.

Damien stepped past him forcefully and entered the old house.

"What're you doing here?" Stan shouted at him.

He noticed Wendy in the living room and was very glad. He turned to Stan, "I've come to tell you that Pip is very sorry about abandoning you,"

His eyebrows furrowed, "What?"

Wendy got up and stood on the other side of the room, "Why can't he tell us in person?"

"He's dead,"

The couple frowned.

"When?" Stan asked quietly.

"A month or so ago."

"How?" Wendy added.

"Cartman shot him," Damien held back a bark of malice, "He just wanted to let you guys now that's he's sorry about you getting caught and what not."

"Tell him we're fine and its okay,"

"Cool,"


	22. The Angel

Chapter XI: The Angel  


* * *

Fresh blood dripped down his hands and he gracefully stepped out of the Rialto household. He silently morphed back into his real self and silently stepped back into the hellevator (hell-elevator).

"That's what traitors get," he muttered darkly.

The levels of earth's layers diverged as they descended down and finally it reached Limbo. He ordered the second floor and waited a quick moment before the floor presented itself to him.

Today marked two months exactly and all he had to do now was wait. All he had to do was wait for Pip.

The group was escorted out of the storm by the same demons who had previously kept them in.

He couldn't wait; Damien pushed through the group of waiting lovers and family members and embraced Philip.

He hugged him tightly, tears breaching his eyes, while wet sobs rattled out of him.

"Pip, Pip," Damien muttered into his ear, "You're okay, it's alright."

"Damien… I hurt so much…"

He kissed him, hands rested against the other's shoulders.

His eyelids dropped, body becoming limp in Damien's hold.

"Pip?"

* * *

He woke up slowly, eyes heavy like rocks, and could already feel the pain course through him.

"How are you feeling?" Damien asked from his side.

Pip's mouth cracked open, "It hurts,"

He pressed his lips against Pip's forehead, "All you need is rest,"

"Right-o,"

Damien enveloped him into a hug and snuggled next to him tightly.

Pip suppressed a painful groan and felt the worse of his injuries burn.

During the third week, the storm winds had actually pushed him up into the air and when they finally died out, he plummeted back to the ground. Evidently, he had landed on a large rock, boulder more so, and had broken his spin.

Along with the unbearable pain in his back, the invisible bruises and cuts that lingered in his body didn't help in the least.

"D-Damien," he murmured, "Please don't let go." Despite the pain, he felt more comfortable in that position than he had in months.

"Don't worry,"

* * *

Bright, hot heat exploded in his back.

He was forced away and convulsed in pain. A loud, wild cry escaped from him and he jerked away from his human cage.

Damien held onto him tightly, hands clasped around his stomach. "Stop moving," he commanded.

He stopped, growing taunt, and clenched his teeth roughly, "Right-o,"

He slowly unwrapped his arms, being careful as he could slid his arm out from under him, and asked him in a hushed voice, "Where does it hurt the most?"

"My b-back," tears swelled in his eyes.

"What happened to it?" His hands rested against his shoulders.

"It broke,"

"Alright," he inhaled heavily, "This'll hurt a lot, but I need to flip you onto your stomach."

"Will it help to lower the pain?"

"Yeah," he gripped tighter on Pip's shoulders and turned him onto his chest.

Pip exclaimed in pain, sucking onto his teeth as pain screamed through his back and body. "I-It's not helping!"

Damien pulled the pillows from under the blonde's head so that he was level.

He exhaled with a shudder and cried roughly into the mattress.

Damien's fingers gently pressed against Pip's sides, bringing a little tickle to his pain. His hands slowly massaged to his hips and Damien paused.

Pip felt the tears dry on his cheeks.

Damien slid up his shirt so that it rested at his armpits and knead his knuckles into the other back.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and groaned heavily into the mattress.

He paused again before he pressed the tips of his fingers against Pip's upper back. He stared at the dark scars that were still laced around his scapulas. It was the first time he had actually seen them. He traced over them lightly.

Pip pulled open his eyes to blink, blocking out the stabbing that radiating from his middle back and concentrated on the light tingle of his shoulder blades. "What are you doing?"

He paused again, hot fingers pulling away from the old wounds, and replied with hesitation, "So, does this hurt anymore?"

"Does what? My back? Yes, it does."

"No, you're shoulders. Do these scars hurt?" He pressed his heated palms back onto his back once more.

He winced, "No, not any longer.

"That's good, I guess." He joked lamely.

He smiled, "That's true,"

Damien applied heat onto Pip's back, burning him to a light degree.

He exhaled shakily.

"You look like an angel,"

He tried to look at him, but his hair cut off his line of view. "How so?"

"These scars,"

"Yes?"

"They look like spots for wings. Like you were an angel at some point but your wings were taken away."

He quirked a brow, "Is that good?"

He paused, "I'm not sure,"

"Oh,"

Damien continued to knead into his back, trying to press away the pain that inflicted Pip. He gently stopped and leaned over slightly, pressing a kiss against his neck, "It's a good thing," he decided.

Pip bit his lip and rested his head down on the mattress again, "I love you,"

"Love you too,"

* * *

The End.

**Fun Facts:**

- This was orginally going to be a bunch of one-shots. Each chapter would follow a song (in order) of Panic at the Disco's album Pretty. Odd. It started to present a plot, so I went with it. Part one was going to be called **Pretty Odd**. But I decided to change it because it was pretty obvious. The second part is inspired by Paramore's album Riot! That's how that was titled.

- Chapter ten of part two would have been a lemon. But I became too paranoid and decided not to post it. It had no real relevence to the story anyway, so it's okay that I didn't post it.

- My computer crashed half-way through writing this and I ended up having to rewrite the first ten chapters once I got my laptop back. I was majorly pissed. Good thing I had a good amount of it written down. -pets notebook- Filled up almost the whole thing. I'm really happy about that for some reason.

- The title is way too French for this story. It means 'Mercy Killing' in French. It was related to this story at one point, but I forgot. :I


End file.
